#it’s not that serious i know but it’s just

[askthisfishprince]

((Eridans outfit by @caligvlasaqvarivm ))

[xo100]

Hey, can you write about landos gf breaking her arm and him taking care of her? like having to help her change and shower, doing her hair und stuff line that? thank you <3

In his care - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1562

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Lando Norris had always been the playful, light-hearted boyfriend, the type to tease and make you laugh until your stomach hurt. But after three years together, there was a depth to your relationship that went beyond just the banter and the fun. He’d become your best friend, your confidant, and now, your caretaker.

You hadn’t expected to be in this position—broken arm in a sling, unable to do even the most basic things without help. It was a stupid accident, really. A slip, a fall, and now you were stuck in this uncomfortable, frustrating situation. But as it turned out, Lando was more than up for the challenge of taking care of you. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

-

The first real test came on day one, when it was time for you to shower. Lando, always the playful one, had teased you when he realized you’d need help.

“So, I get to see you naked... and it’s for ‘medical reasons’? Lucky me,” he said with a wink, earning him an eye-roll from you.

“Lando,” you groaned, cheeks flushing. “This isn’t exactly a fun situation, you know.”

But even as you complained, you couldn’t help but laugh. He had a way of lightening even the most awkward moments. His teasing helped take your mind off the discomfort and frustration of not being able to do things on your own. Lando knew when to joke, and when to be serious.

“I’m kidding, love,” he said, his tone softening as he walked over to you. “I’ve got you, okay?”

And he did. Gently, he helped you undress, his fingers careful around your arm. There was something about the way he moved—confident yet delicate—that made you feel safe. Vulnerable, yes, but never embarrassed. He was Lando, your Lando, and there was no one else you trusted more.

Once you were under the warm spray of water, he joined you, shampooing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. It was a strange, intimate experience, but not in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. In fact, it was sweet.

“Maybe I should do this for you more often,” he murmured, lips close to your ear.

“You think I’ll let you wash my hair when I’m fully capable?” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm on your neck. “You never know, you might like the service.”

But as much as he teased, there was genuine care in the way he handled you. He washed every inch of your body with the gentleness you never knew he had. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest for a moment, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“For being... you.”

-

You never realized how hard it was to do something as simple as put your hair in a ponytail with one hand. By the third day, you were ready to give up on the idea of leaving the house with your hair looking decent. But, of course, Lando wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Okay, I’m going to do it,” he said, determination in his voice as he picked up your hairbrush and an elastic.

You sat in front of him, trying to keep still while he struggled to gather your hair into something resembling a ponytail. The concentration on his face was adorable—his tongue poking out a little as he focused on the task at hand.

“Lando, it’s fine,” you said after the third attempt. “I can just wear it down.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m getting this right.”

It took another few tries, but eventually, he managed to pull your hair into a somewhat lopsided ponytail. He grinned proudly, admiring his work in the mirror behind you.

“Look at that! I’m a pro,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

You laughed, reaching up with your good hand to touch the ponytail. It wasn’t perfect, but it was endearing in its imperfection.

“I love it,” you said sincerely.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your good shoulder. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

“You’re doing a great job, babe.”

-

As the days went on, Lando had to help you with more than just your hair. Getting dressed with one hand was a nightmare, and you hated having to rely on him for something so simple. But Lando, being the cheeky guy he was, turned it into something fun.

“Alright, love, what’ll it be today?” he asked, holding up two of your shirts. “Sexy red or casual blue?”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Lando.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re always impressing me, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at his words. He knew exactly how to make you feel special, even when you were at your most vulnerable.

“Blue,” you said with a sigh, and he grinned.

Helping you get dressed was, of course, another challenge. He was gentle but still fumbled a bit, trying not to hurt your arm as he guided it through the sleeve.

“Sorry, sorry!” he muttered as he accidentally tugged too hard on your sling.

You laughed through the discomfort. “You’re not great at this, huh?”

“Hey! I’m doing my best here,” he protested, but there was no real frustration in his voice. He was patient with you, and that was what mattered.

Once you were dressed, he stepped back to admire his work.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, a proud smile on his face.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, and he leaned down to kiss you softly.

-

By the end of the week, you were starting to feel a little more like yourself, but the pain in your arm was still a constant reminder of your injury. Lando, ever the attentive boyfriend, noticed when you were getting frustrated or tired, and he was always there to offer comfort.

That evening, you were lying on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, when Lando plopped down beside you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, careful of your injured arm, and snuggled up close.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice soft in your ear.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Just... tired of this.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you’re doing great. And I’m here, okay? For as long as you need me.”

You smiled, leaning into him. His warmth, his presence—it was everything you needed. You didn’t have to ask for his help; he just gave it freely, without hesitation.

As you lay there together, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your back, you realized how lucky you were. Not just because he was helping you through this injury, but because he was Lando. The man who loved you unconditionally, who saw you at your weakest and still made you feel strong.

“Love you,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Love you more,” he replied softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

And in that moment, broken arm and all, you felt more loved than ever.

-

As your arm started to heal, you began to regain some independence, but that didn’t stop Lando from taking every opportunity to tease you. He seemed to enjoy his new role as caretaker a little too much, and he never missed a chance to flirt.

One afternoon, you were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to cut up some fruit with your good hand. Lando walked in, immediately taking the knife from you.

“Let me help,” he said, leaning in close.

“I can do it,” you protested, though you didn’t exactly mind when he was this close to you.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but I do it better, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. He knew exactly how to get under your skin, but in the best way.

As he cut up the fruit, he stole glances at you, his smile never fading. “You know,” he said casually, “taking care of you has been... kind of fun.”

“Oh, has it now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding a piece of fruit toward you. “I mean, I get to spend all this extra time with you, take care of you, shower with you...”

“Lando!” you laughed, swatting at him with your good hand.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. “I’m just saying, maybe I should be your personal nurse more often.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your heart swelled with love for him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice soft as he looked into your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

And he was right.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

[chiscaralight]

okayyy but has anyone thought about pussy eater kinich??? bc i have and i must speak my truth. or i just need my pussy ate. one or the other.

i don’t think kinich is a virgin, but he’s not that experienced. and he doesn’t feel the need to have sex, it’s not really interesting until he meets you.

he’s hooked on you like bees on honey, constantly asking you to come over so he can fuck all the energy he has into you in every different position.

and there comes a day where you tell him he’s gotta learn how to eat it! he fucks good yeah, but you miss the feeling of a tongue prodding around you, so you decide to teach him. and my god is he a fast learner.

the speed he has isn’t only limited to his body, tongue flicking and twisting fast in and out of your hole as his nose bumps your clit. in serious contrast to the way he behaves, he eats it absolutely sloppy. egregious noises, your slick coating his smooth face and chin as he hums into your cunt softly shaking his head in your heat.

he also likes the way you cum differently depending on what he does. if he takes it slow, you gush hard, slowly dropping out your climax against him as it ruins his shirt.

but if he’s feeling extra impatient, he’ll nibble down on your clit, pushing a finger or two in and curling them just where he knows you like, causing you to squirt. and he’ll smile after, watching the embarrassment wash over your jittery body as he dives back in for one more.

it even gets to a point where hell show up unannounced, god help you don’t lock the door. he’ll barge in and see you on the couch. then quickly take his place on the floor in front of you, offering wet kisses through your panties to get you going. and it always works.

he also can’t admit that it’s not necessarily all he enjoys, he loves the way you tug at his hair, call out his name. he might just have to make you his one of these days, ensuring that no one else has access to the treasure trove that’s between your legs. you (and your pussy) are just like a drug to him; he’ll keep coming back for more.

[jaylalolz]

Heyy girl i love ur writing so much! Could i do a request of Father Charlie Smut, with him and reader who loves wearing short dresses and skirts but like she’s innocent girl. She wears one during mass and he can’t stop eyeing her the whole time.

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, charlie can’t take his eyes off of her while she wears those short skirts all the time. he realizes that she needs to be punished.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope you like it.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

Charlie stood at the altar, his voice steady as he read from the Bible. It was an ordinary Sunday mass, yet something felt off. His words were focused on the sermon, but his mind kept wandering, distracted by a presence in the crowd. A familiar one. He tried to ignore it at first, pushing through the scriptures, but every few minutes, his eyes darted back to the same spot.

There she was, sitting in the third row—his favorite girl. She had a way of turning heads without even trying.

Charlie noticed her as soon as she entered the church, the short, black skirt she wore clinging tightly to her legs. It was far from appropriate for a Sunday service, or for any visit to church. It wasn’t just the length—barely reaching mid-thigh—but the way she seemed completely unfazed by it, sitting there confidently, crossing and uncrossing her legs like the length didn’t matter.

He could feel a tension rising inside him, an unfamiliar mix of emotions that tugged at his composure. Why had she worn that here, of all places?

As mass ended and people began filtering out, Charlie couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. He needed to say something, to address it before it gnawed at him further. With a sigh, he stepped down from the altar and walked toward her.

She was lingering by the restrooms, her usual smile playing on her lips. As soon as she saw Charlie approaching, her eyes brightened.

“Charlie,” she said warmly, tilting her head. “Your sermon was great today.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, his tone a little more serious than usual. He paused, looking at her outfit up close, his brow furrowing. “can we talk for a second?”

Her smile faltered just a bit, noticing the change in his mood. “Sure,” she said slowly, stepping aside with him.

Charlie took a breath, keeping his voice low. “Listen… I couldn’t help but notice what you’re wearing today.”

She blinked, her brows raising in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The skirt,” he gestured awkwardly, his eyes darting to the hem that barely covered anything. “It’s… not exactly appropriate for church.”

She looked down at her outfit, as if she hadn’t even thought about it before. Her expression was neutral, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes—maybe defiance. “Is it bothering you?”

He shifted on his feet, unsure how to respond. “It’s just… This is a place of worship. People come here to connect with God, and I think what you’re wearing might distract from that. Not just for me—for everyone.”

Her lips curled into a small smile, her voice softening. “Are you saying I’m distracting you, Charlie?”

His face heated up at her teasing tone, but he forced himself to stay serious. “I’m not trying to make this personal. I’m just asking you to be mindful of where you are.”

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if weighing her next words carefully. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. It’s just a skirt, Charlie. Can’t help it if people stare.”

“I know that,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But people judge, whether we like it or not. And in a place like this, modesty is important.”

Her smile faded, her expression softening. She looked him in the eye, sensing the sincerity behind his words. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. But… I’ll be more careful next time.”

He exhaled in relief, nodding. “Thanks. I just want to make sure everyone’s focus is where it should be.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, maybe you just need to focus a little better.”

“You think this is appropriate? You’re drawing attention to the wrong things” Charlie ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. He knew he wasn’t explaining it right, but the way she stood there, so confident in defying him, was only making his thoughts more muddled.

She cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Drawing attention? Isn’t that a you problem? Maybe you’re the one who’s distracted, not me.”

Her words hit a nerve, and suddenly, everything Charlie had been holding back came flooding out. “Yes, I am distracted!” His voice was louder than he intended, but it was too late to stop now. “Do you think it’s easy standing up there, trying to give a sermon, trying to focus on leading a mass, when you’re sitting there in the front row, wearing something that… that—”

“That what?” she pressed, her tone icy now.

Charlie swallowed hard, the confession finally spilling from his lips. “That makes it impossible not to notice you. Every time I look out at the congregation, you’re the first person I see. And it’s distracting. It’s not just about the skirt, it’s about… you.”

The air between them felt heavy with his words, and for a moment, She seemed stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, processing what he had just admitted.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “I bet you like it when I give you my attention.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the color rise to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, trying to laugh it off, but her laugh came out awkward, a bit too high-pitched, betraying the nerves that were now crawling their way up her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered. She could feel the heat in her face, the way her hands suddenly felt restless as she fiddled with the edge of the throw pillow beside her.

Charlie chuckled, leaning forward slightly, narrowing the distance between them. “You do this thing,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her, “where you act like you don’t care, like I’m not getting to you. But I can see it.” His voice dropped lower, his tone almost teasing. “I can always see it.”

Her heart raced faster now, a dull thrum in her chest. She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. She hated that he could read her so easily, hated that she couldn’t hide how his attention made her feel. Nervous, yes. But there was more to it than that, and she wasn’t ready to admit what that was.

“You’re full of yourself,” she finally managed, her words barely above a whisper.

Charlie’s smile widened, that maddening, knowing smile that only made her nerves worse. He leaned back again, but his eyes still held her captive. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I?”

She swallowed, trying to hold onto whatever was left of her composure. “You’re imagining things,” she said, shaking her head, but even to her ears, the denial sounded weak.

“Am I? cause for some reason you always wear a skirt when your around me. I’m not stupid. ” he asked, his tone challenging now, as though daring her to keep denying it.

she looked away again, desperate to break the tension that was steadily building between them. But it was too late. His words had already burrowed into her mind, making it impossible to escape the truth she was trying so hard to ignore.

"Just admit it, already," Charlie said, his voice low and certain, sending a ripple of heat through her.

She swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she desperately tried to hold onto some sense of control. "Admit what?"

Charlie smirked, standing up from his spot and slowly walking toward her. He was too close now, his presence too overwhelming, the scent of his cologne filling the air around her. He stopped just inches away, his gaze holding hers captive, daring her to keep pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You like it when I give you my attention," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but every word felt like it hit her with the weight of something inevitable. "You like it when I make you nervous."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the rush of adrenaline making her pulse quicken. She wanted to deny it, to brush off his words like she always did, but something about the way he was looking at her made it impossible to lie.

Charlie took another step closer, so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating toward her.

She leaned back slightly, her back pressing against the wall as if it would give her some distance from the truth staring her in the face.

"Charlie, I-" she started, but the words got caught, tangled with her emotions.

He leaned in just a little more, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the tension between them building to a breaking point. His eyes softened, just a flicker of something raw and real underneath the teasing. And in that moment, she knew he wasn't going to let her hide.

"Admit it," he whispered, his voice so quiet, yet so commanding. "You wear those skirts for me”

She hesitated for a split second, her heart pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing, before she finally let go. It was terrifying how right he was.

The way he made her feel, the way his attention seemed to pull her in, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

She couldn't keep denying it, not to him, and not to herself.

"I wear them for you," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but she knew he heard her.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Charlie's face, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to buzz with something electric, something inevitable.

Then, before she could overthink it, before she could take it back, Charlie's hand was at her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he tilted her face up to his. The world seemed to slow down, the room spinning away until there was only him, only them, in this moment they both knew was coming.

"Good," he murmured softly, his eyes locked on hers. "My naughty fucking girl."

And then, with a deliberate slowness, he leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn't hesitant or unsure. His lips were warm, soft, yet firm against hers, and the moment they connected, something inside her melted. She felt herself lean into him, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing holding her upright.

The kiss deepened, his hand slipping into her hair, pulling her just a little closer. She could feel the tension unraveling between them, all the unspoken words and hidden feelings pouring out in that one perfect moment.

Everything else faded away-the nerves, the fear, the constant push and pull-until all that was left was the warmth of his lips on hers, the way his touch seemed to set her skin on fire.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other's. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, both caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened, of what had been building for so long.

He says, "I thought about you every single day after I met you for the first time," as he presses kisses to her cheek and slides his hands down her arms in a leisurely motion that mimics the path his wet lips followed on the way up.

She's trying to listen, but as they explore, the ache he's started between her legs feels like it's pulsating in her ears, and his hands are scratching her skin. He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh before giving her another painful kiss and nips in between his low, hoarse confessions. “Always thought about those fucking skirts you wore" When he traces his sharp nails from the inside of her knees up to the tops of my inner thighs, she gasps.

He presses his mouth to her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "No one compares to you," he mumbles, his voice lowering to a low pitch that turns her stomach. He presses his face against her head and lets out a deep groan as the fingers on one hand slide higher and higher until they draw a slow, agonizing stroke up her heat. The other hand smooths back up her stomach.

Her eyes roll closed and she can only hold her breath as her head lulls back. "All those times you teased me.. I think you deserve to get punished," he says forcing her to a wall.

He exhales, "Shit, you're soaking." She can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back as he lingers, slowly and indulgently stroking his fingers along her shamefully damp folds, avoiding where she really needs them. Nipping at the flesh on her neck, he mumbles against her, "Such a good girl for me, yeah?" she nods eagerly.

One of Charlie's fingers sneaks up and softly wraps around her throat, while the other eventually slides up to rest on the area that has been throbbing ever since he had her pinned to a wall. He maintains his lips tight against her ear, matching the pants pouring out of her, starting to circle his fingers around her clit in the same rhythm.

"Do you feel that?" He flicks her nerves more quickly and puts more pressure on them while rasping into her ear. “your chest get tighter and your heart beating faster?"

She shifts her hips against him mindlessly, her mouth hanging wide, and she doesn't even know how she manages to say a breathless yes, but nevertheless, she manages. "How incredible that feels, you never want it to end?" He goes on, getting a closer hold on her throat, not tight enough to stop her breathing, but tight enough to pull a high-pitched groan out of her, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She panted out another yes and swallowed. "That's how I feel when you're around me, looking at me through your eyelashes- smiling at me. I can feel it in my bones."

She squirms, unable to keep still at the fire igniting inside of her, between what he's saying and what he's doing with his fingers, and her legs begin to shake. His loud, taunting voice reverberates around her, his untamed hair strewn about with strands falling in front of his hungry gaze. "No coming just yet, Angel. I need to taste you."

She can only fling her head back and hide a choked groan the moment he presses his lips to her warmth. He offers her one last slow, dimpled smirk as he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding onto her hips as he sits between her legs. His warm tongue flattens against her clit as his fingers bite into her skin while he lets a deep sigh that rumbles up through him and vibrates against her and she whine at the feeling.

Her back arches as she lets out wild cries that she can't control, and she's clinging to his hair for dear life as his tongue begins to circle and draw deft patterns against her nerves. Her senses are completely assaulted by the guttural moans and growls that are coming out of him as he relishes every response he receives from her. The stress within her was nearly too much for her to bear.

She cries out at the sensation as he his ring and middle finger enters her. The build-up to everything and the delicate way he's sucking and lapping at her pulsating core while his fingers coil inside of her to target that point that has her vision blurring are just too many sensations happening at once. He retracts his tongue while maintaining a fixed gaze on her. He accelerates the speed of his fingers, purposefully striking the area of her body that is producing such a strong pressure.

"Charlie" She exclaim, "What-What is, I don't know what's-oh fuck"; she squeezes her eyes tight, feeling a growing sense of violence inside of her. He examines her expression and quickens the tempo of his careful fingers. He purrs, encouraging her to go forward as he flicks his eyes down to watch his fingers thrust into her. "Don't worry baby, just go with it, it's okay, you're okay".

He moans as he continues to watch what he's doing. She begins to shake, her muscles contracting. She can no longer resist the sensation that her body is having a seizure and going into seclusion at the same time. "Charlie!" She throws her head back, arches off the wall, and yells until the pain tears through her like nothing she has ever experienced. When it finally fades, every part of her body feels as heavy as cement, and she nearly collapses on the ground, her chest heaving as she tries to take in as much oxygen as she can.

“Never wear that skirt again or you’ll regret it”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [5] - Dusk

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Some evenings come with threats.

Word Count: 4242 

CW: Violence, explicit language, blood, threats

Series Masterlist

“I have no idea why you don’t like him.”

“Well, that makes two of us because I have no idea why you like him.”

You rolled your eyes at Jamie as you grabbed the coffee pot, then filled his cup while he pointed at you with his fork. The diner wasn’t very busy yet; you had the time to focus your full attention on him after taking a couple of orders to the tables, so you leaned on the counter, then stole a fry off his plate.

“Logan is nice.”

“Oh Logan is nice?” he repeated with a scoff. “He’s a giant ball of macho bullshit with no brains, that’s what he is.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh come on Jamie!”

“I’m serious,” he said as you crossed your arms to shoot him a lighthearted glare.

“You know, I wasn’t like this when you introduced Nik to me.”

“Nik is my soulmate,” he said without hesitation. “I doubt the brute caveman is your soulmate.”

“He's not a caveman.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He just…he doesn’t look very friendly,” you said in a rush to defend him. “I’m aware of it but he’s been to wars and stuff, so it’s kinda expected—”

“Which is another red flag, sunshine,” Jamie insisted. “When was he born, you said?”

“1832.”

“You have a crush on Dracula: Lumberjack Edition?”

“He doesn’t give off vampire vibes!”

“No, he gives off werewolf vibes,” he said. “And just in case a certain popular franchise has escaped your notice, they’re both equally bad.”

You scrunched your nose up at him, still leaning to the counter while he sipped his coffee.

“What happened to the guy Nik set you up with?”

“Oh that date was a disaster,” you said with a shrug. “He talked about himself the whole time. I barely got two words in.”

“I hate when they do that,” he grumbled, making you smile.

“I swear to you Logan is not a bad guy,” you said. “He’s the furthest thing from that—which by the way, we might be just arguing over nothing. I honestly doubt he sees me that way.”

He shot you a look of disbelief.

“Sunshine.”

“No I really don’t think—”

“A lot of people you cross paths with see you that way.”

“You and Julie both say that but that’s because you’re my best friends.”

“No, that’s because we see how people look at you,” he said. “Unlike you.”

“Yeah but Logan—”

“Logan will make a move on you one of these days, and I think you should turn him down when he does.”

You wiggled your brows. “It’d be a bit difficult to turn him down while I’m climbing him like a tree.”

“Fuck him once and leave him.”

“I already decided what our future cabin in the woods will be like.”

He let out a groan, burying his face into his hands, making you giggle.

“If Logan and I start dating and that’s a huge if, considering I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me that way,” you said. “We’ll go on a double date with you and Nik, and you will see he’s actually the nicest guy in the entire world.”

“I hope he’s terrible in bed so that you will snap out of this,” he motioned at you as his phone vibrated, making him check it before he took a huge sip of his coffee, then stood up.

“Thank you so much for letting me borrow your car by the way,” he said. “It’s just that, Nik’s grandma needs a ride to the airport and…”

“It’s totally fine,” you said with a wave of your hand. “Don’t even mention it.”

“I’ll bring it tonight to your place.”

“Like I said, it’s totally fine,” you said. “Tell Nik’s grandma I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek, then walked out of the diner. You grabbed his plate and mug, but as soon as you entered the kitchen, the boss’ office door opened and he peeked his head out.

“Hey,” he said. “Bad news, Stacey can’t make it, she has the flu. Do you think you could close tonight?”

Shit.

Of course you had to close when you didn’t have a car.

You pressed your lips together, then forced yourself to smile before nodding your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “I can close tonight, no problem.”

                                                  *

Today was not going as planned, at all.

Creepy customers weren’t exactly new to you. You were pretty sure that everyone in service industry had to deal with them at one point or another, God knew you did. But usually, once you turned them down, they finished their meals and left without leaving you a tip.

They didn’t just sit there at the booth, staring at you for almost an hour.

Paul was by the grill as you walked into the kitchen and heaved a sigh, pressing your palms into your eyes, your heart beating in your throat.

It was fine. If he stayed there towards the closing time, you were just going to ask Paul to handle him, he was pretty good at that. He would deal with him, and afterwards you would just call a cab and go home and forget about today.

“You okay?” Paul asked and you dropped your hands, then nodded, clearing your throat.

“Um—yeah. Just tired I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Slow day but I went to bed late, so…”  

He grinned. “Your new boyfriend is keeping you up late?”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s nothing like that.”

“No?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t even know if he likes me that way to be honest.”

“What, he just came to drive you home the other day out of the goodness in his heart?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. He’s nice.”

“Honey, I’m terribly sorry to shatter your trust in the goodness of us men, but we usually don’t do that just for any girl.”

“Yeah but Logan is nice,” you insisted. “Not to mention, he’s out of my league.”

“Did you break all the mirrors in your place or something?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Paul.”

“Take it from a guy, Logan definitely wants to…” he wiggled his brows and you grabbed the table cloth, then tossed it at him for him to catch it in the air.

“That’s absolutely not true.”

“So your crush isn’t keeping you up, then what is?”

“Have you met me?” you asked him. “I run on stress.”

“You know what’s good for stress, right?” he asked with a smirk but as soon as he stole a look out of the small kitchen window into the diner, then pulled his brows together. “Did I Beetlejuice this motherfucker or something?”

“What?” you asked, turning your head to follow his line of sight, then gasped when you saw Logan walking to the counter to sit on a stool.

At first you were surprised at the relief that hit you out of nowhere so fast that it made your head spin, because normally whenever you were around Logan, your heart would be making flips, adrenaline rushing through you. It took you a moment to understand what it was, and once you did, you let out a breath.

It was safety.

Somehow, something in your body knew Logan being there meant you were completely safe.

You let out a breath and pushed open the door to step outside, then approached the counter.

“Hey,” you said, still slightly dizzy and Logan’s hazel eyes searched your face, his frown deepening.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“I could hear your heartbeat from a mile away,” he said. “What’s going on?”

You blinked a couple of times. “You recognize my heartbeat?”

“Yeah,” he said as if it was completely normal. “And I smelled your fear. So what’s going on?”

“You what?” you asked. “I smell like fear?”

“Not normally, but you do right now,” he said impatiently. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, trying to focus as you stole a look at the booth the creep was still sitting in, Logan turning his head to follow your glances.

“He, um…” you said, lowering your voice. “He wanted to know when I get off work, and—and I said no and he’s been sitting there for an hour, just staring.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose as if he was surprised by the guy’s audacity.

“And I close the diner tonight,” you whispered. “And I gave the car to Jamie because his boyfriend’s grandma has been staying with them, and she’s really nice except for when she made that one comment about me giving it up too—” you stopped yourself. “Sorry. Um, I don’t—”

“How about I drive you home tonight?” he cut you off, making you pull your brows together.

“You’d do that?”

The look he gave you was almost reprimanding as if he was offended by you asking a question when the answer was clear as day and you let out a relieved breath.

“Logan I…” you trailed off. “I don’t know how to thank you, you’re—you’re amazing, really.”

“You have no reason to thank me, princess,” he said, making your heart skip a beat.

“I have many reasons.”

“No, and don’t worry about that asshole,” he said, nodding in the direction of the booth before turning to you, “but you need to call me when this sort of bullshit happens.”

“I don’t have your number,” you said and he paused for a moment as if he hadn’t thought about that.

“Right,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you and you smiled, then took it from him. You entered your phone number, then sent yourself a quick text before handing him the phone back.

“There,” you said with a grin. “Now we have each other’s numbers. Technology isn’t so bad, huh?”

He gave you a small smile and you cleared your throat.

“So what can I get you?” you asked, shifting your weight from one foot to other in excitement, and he frowned for a moment.

“Any chance you’ve got some of that pie from earlier?”

“Sure!” you said. “I’ll be right back.”

You went into the kitchen and made your way to the counter to get out the pie, then cut a big slice to put it on the plate.

“Look at that, your mood is fixed for some reason,” Paul teased you and you scrunched up your nose at him, then grabbed the chocolate sauce bottle. You carefully drew the shape on the plate, your tongue sticking out from the corner of your mouth.

“So let me guess, he’s still not your boyfriend?”

You gave him a chiding look. “Don’t.”

“Hey, I’m asking to see if I need to set you up with one of my friends.”

“Oh I’ve met your friends,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll respectfully decline, thank you.”

“They’re pretty cool guys.”

“I guess I’m not cool,” you told him and picked up the plate, then pushed open the kitchen door to make your way to Logan who was sitting on the stool by the counter.

“There you go,” you said and put the plate in front of him. “You may be curious about what that shape is on the plate is.”

“Was just about to ask you about that.”

“That’s a cigar,” you pointed at it. “And there’s an X over it because cigars suck. And that’s a frowny face right next to it because to repeat, cigars suck.”

“I see,” he said with a small grin. “A very clear message.”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, stealing a look at the booth to check on the creep but the booth was completely empty. You blinked a couple of times before you turned to Logan.

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Where did that man go?”

He grabbed his fork. “He left.”

“…Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Your frown deepened. “Did you say something to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just a small warning, that’s all.”

You could feel the relief filling your system as a smile warmed your face, making you bite at your lip.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered as he dug into the pie while you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms on it.

“So you were around then?” you asked. “When you heard my heartbeat?”

“Mm hm.”

“How do you know it’s my heartbeat and not someone else’s?”

“I recognize it,” he said, making you raise your brows.

“Is that—” you started but were distracted by a customer asking for a refill, so you grabbed the coffee pot, went to refill his coffee and walked behind the counter again. You pulled out a mug to fill Logan coffee, then put it in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Is that what you did during the French Revolution as well?”

“To repeat, I haven’t—” he started but then his lips curled into a smile upon seeing the teasing glint in your eyes. “Right. Seriously, what is this fascination with French Revolution?”

“I was weirdly into historical documentaries while pregnant with Theo,” you said. “Kinda stuck.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of all that though, what was 19th century like?”

Logan took a sip of his coffee. “Foggy.”

“…Very descriptive, Dickens,” you said with a nod of your head. “Professor X should have you teach literature, you’d do wonders in prose.”

 That made him chuckle before he took his fork into his mouth, and you smiled at him before walking to another table to take their order.

                                             *

As the sky went dark and the closing time got closer, you realized that you hadn’t even been paying attention to the time. Paul had left an hour ago, so had all the customers but you were so lost in the excitement of spending time with Logan that if it weren’t for your phone vibrating on the counter, you wouldn’t have even noticed it was past the closing time.

“But yeah, he literally brought a kitten home from the street,” you said with a smile as you walked to get your coat. “The said kitten is now Nik and Jamie’s beloved son, but—what are you doing?”

Logan pulled out his wallet and motioned at the empty plate and the coffee mug, making you narrow your eyes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Princess—”

“I will threaten you, I don’t care if you’re invincible and like 200 years old.”

He tilted his head. “You’re threatening me with threatening me?”

“Yes,” you said. “I will kill you with kindness and also this knife I found in the kitchen if you try to pay for it.”

“You’re terrible at threatening people.”

“I know, I’m working on it,” you muttered as you grabbed the plate and the mug to put it on the counter of the kitchen through the small window, and by the time you turned around he had already placed some cash on where the plate just was.

“Logan!”

“Technically I’m not paying for it, I’m leaving a tip.”

“That tip is more than the check.”

“Well that’s—” he started before his head whipped around, the playful smile wiping off of his face as a car pulled over in front of the diner. He gritted his teeth, making you pull your brows together.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he said. “Just do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll step outside for a moment,” he said. “Stay here.”

Your heart started pounding in your chest. “What—what’s going on?”

“I swear to you, it’ll take only a moment,” he said, his voice completely calm as he stood up from the stool. “Don’t step outside, okay?”

 “Hey asshole, I don’t appreciate being threatened!” A shout came from outside and you took a step back, panic making you dizzy upon recognizing the voice; it had to be the guy from earlier. “So I brought some friends! How about we show you some manners and then entertain your girl?”

You could feel your blood freezing in your veins and you grabbed your phone. “I’ll—I’ll call the cops—”

“Don’t,” Logan said. “They’ll only get in the way. I got it.”

“Logan…” you started but a metallic noise reached your ears as metal claws sprouted from his knuckles, making your eyes widen.

“What…”

“Stay here.”

“I-but—” you stammered but he had already walked out of the door, making you cover your mouth. Fear pounded through your system, your eyes filling with tears as you sniffled, then grabbed the knife on the counter and took a step to the closed door, but blood splattered over the huge window, soon followed by the panicked yelling of the newcomers. Your stomach churned as you swallowed thickly, then you wiped at your eyes and rushed to the door with the knife in your hand before you swung it open.

The view you were presented with looked like something out of a movie. Two of the guys writhing on the ground, one of the crawling to the car while the other looked like he was crying. The man from earlier was also on the ground, holding onto his face but you could see the blood dripping through his fingers as Logan retracted his claws, then held him from the back of his jacket and lifted him up.

“You’ve got something to say to her?” he growled, and the man let out a sob, then lowered his hands, your breath catching in your throat upon seeing the gashes on his face.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he managed to whimper through pain and Logan dropped him on his face unceremoniously, then turned to you.

“What’s the knife for?” he asked and you blinked a couple of times, forcing yourself to drag your gaze from the man.

“I was coming to save you,” you told Logan, making the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Yeah?” he asked as if humoring you and you nodded, then took a look at the men on the ground.

“Come on,” Logan said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Let me take you home.”

You felt like you were in a haze as you rushed inside to put the knife back, grabbed your phone off the counter, then shut down the lights and closed the door behind you, locked it and turned to Logan again.

“…Shouldn’t we call someone?”

“Nope.”

“But what if you get in trouble because of—”

“I won’t,” Logan answered, gently leading you to the motorcycle, his hand on the small of your back. He put the helmet on your head and you got behind him on the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold onto him tight.

The road to your home felt almost surreal. The panic still hadn’t left your system yet, your mind going overdrive with everything that could have gone wrong, or would go wrong if those creeps had decided to press charges on Logan. Even though he didn’t look worried at all, you were beginning to think you worried enough for the both of you.

And if something had happened to him, if they had gotten to him before he could beat them—

No.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about it.

You hadn’t even realized that your cheeks were wet with tears when he pulled over in front of your house, his head turning to the side when he heard you sniffling. You swung your leg over the seat to sit sideways on it and he got off the motorcycle to help you take off the helmet but as soon as he did, you pressed your palms on your eyes, biting inside your cheek to keep yourself under control.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sniffling again as you lowered your hands before a shaky sigh left your lips. He lifted your chin with a curled finger, your eyes shooting up to his, your heart skipping a beat as he gently wiped at the tear under your eye.

“I’m sorry for scaring you off.”

The change in his tone was impossible to miss. That growl that had spilled from his lips while talking to that man was completely gone and now his deep voice was soft like honey, making you feel all warm inside. You blinked back the tears and shook your head fervently.

“You didn’t,” you said. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“But you’re scared.”

“Not of you,” you said, shaking your head again as you bit at your nail. “For you.”

That made him pull his brows together in confusion and you let out a breath.

“Logan, there were three people there,” you insisted. “They could’ve easily overpowered you—”

“That’s impossible.”

“They could’ve killed you!”

“Also impossible,” he said, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as if the idea was too absurd. “I told you before. I heal.”

“I’m sure there are exceptions to that, if they came up with a way—”

“Unless those guys were keeping a fully functioning high technology lab underneath the diner, they couldn’t,” he said. “Me getting hurt was not a possibility there, and the only reason they’re alive is because you were there. That’s it.”

You sniffled again.

“But did I make you betray a principle or something?”

“What?”

“Because the secretary of Mutant Affairs held a press conference the other day and he—”

“Hank?”

“Hank McCoy, yes. You know him?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Well, he talked about how mutants have this principle—”

A dry chuckle climbed up his throat.

“I don’t have any principles when it comes to assholes like those,” he said, a shadow crossing his handsome face. “But nobody gets to hurt you or threaten you. That’s the principle here.”

Your head was spinning again for a completely different reason and you took a trembling breath, stealing a look at the building behind you before looking up to his hazel eyes, your heart beating in your throat.

“Would you like to—” you started but before you could invite him to your apartment, a car flashed its headlights at you two, making you turn your head to look at it.

Oh.

Your car.

Jamie was in the driver’s seat and he frowned slightly before he stopped the car and Nik leaned out from the open passenger seat window.

“Hey Sunshine!” he said. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

You closed your eyes for a moment before opening them again, then licked your lips.

“It’s on mute, I didn’t hear,” you said. “Uh, Logan, this is Nik, Jamie’s boyfriend. Nik, this is Logan, my…my friend.”

Nik gave him a grin as he eyed him up and down.

“Nice to meet you Logan,” he said before turning to you. “Get in, we’re taking you out to dinner. Your friend can come too if he’d like.”

You glanced up at Logan, biting at your lip and he took a deep breath, then cleared his throat as if trying to snap out of a haze.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” you said. “I just didn’t know they were coming—but um, would you like to join us? Nik is an expert when it comes to restaurants, he knows all the great ones.”

Logan shook his head.

“I’d better go,” he said. “It’ll be easier to track those guys down while they’re still bleeding.”

You blinked a couple of times. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll make sure they understand they shouldn’t cross paths with you ever again,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s all.”

You hesitated only for a moment before you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him, resting your forehead against his hard chest, the scent of pines and smoke surrounding you in the most pleasant way. He cradled the back of your head with one hand while his other arm sneaked around your waist and he nuzzled his nose into your hair to inhale deeply, making your heartbeat faster. Even though you felt like you could happily spend your whole life in his arms, you knew you had to step back especially with Jamie and Nik right there, so you slowly pulled back to look up at him. His hazel gaze went down to your lips for a moment before snapping back to your eyes and you swallowed thickly.

“Thanks,” you managed to say. “For…you know.”

“No problem, princess,” he said softly and stepped back as well, then nodded in Jamie’s direction before getting on the motorcycle.

“Be careful,” he said and you let out a small laugh.

“Likewise,” you said before he drove off and you shifted your weight before making your way to the car. You opened the door and got in the backseat, then slammed the door shut as Nik turned to look at you over his shoulder.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi Nik. Hi Jamie.”

“So that was Logan?” Nik asked and Jamie scoffed as he started the car.

“Yep. That’s the asshole I told you about.”

“Well, neither of you told me he was that hot,” Nik pointed out, grinning at you. “Did we interrupt something?”

You wiped at your nose, then shook your head. “Um, no.”

Jamie took a look at you from the rear mirror, then frowned.

“If that asshole made you cry, I swear—”

“He didn’t,” you said in a rush and buckled your seat belt. “I’ll tell you on the way. What are we eating?”

[zephyrchama]

Tail Bone (Obey Me! brothers and MC)

"My tail bone hurts," you complained. You never expected demons to be well-mannered beings, able to behave themselves in a silent classroom for hours on end. Nor that sitting for so long could be so painful. You let out an exasperated sigh and began to tenderly massage your lower back as soon as the lecture on nocturnal beasts was over.

"Your what?" Leviathan had been booting up a mobile game behind you, eager to claim his daily bonus. While the loading screen played out, he looked up at you in confusion.

Standing to stretch, you nodded towards the hand swirling around your waistband. "Right here, my tail bone. I'm gonna ask Diavolo if he can get softer chairs for the classrooms. You're not in any pain?"

In front of you, Beelzebub nodded. "My stomach hurts. I'm so hungry, I can hardly think straight." He began rooting around in his bag for an emergency candy bar or five.

Mammon interjected from the side, stating "you don't have a tail," with a look of bewilderment. He was staring intensely at your rear and questioning everything he's ever known about you.

"We'd know if you did," Satan added.

"It's not an actual tail. Just... the name of the bone." Your attempt at an explanation wasn't very informative, but you didn't know how else to describe it. Your brain was fried from a long, boring lecture. You were more focused on getting the circulation in your legs working again than on explaning proper human anatomy.

Asmodeus had crept over, clearly noticed by everyone except you, and put his hands over the afflicted area. "Right about here?" he asked, voice coated in faux innocence.

You jumped forward a step in surprise, arching your back away from the sudden touch. Mammon and Leviathan, mobile game now forgotten, pounced on their younger brother. They pulled him away by the shoulders and forced his arms behind his back.

"Ahaha! Did I guess right?"

"That is a serious violation of PDA!" Leviathan half-shouted.

"Yeah, only I'm allowed to touch 'em like that! You all know I'm s'posed to be in charge of the human." Mammon thrust himself in front of Asmodeus, who was busy laughing in Leviathan's face. He opened and closed his hands in a disturbing manner, like a pervert. "Here, let me see this tail for myself."

"I don't think it's an actual tail," Satan surmised at the same time you exclaimed, "I don't have a tail!"

"Settle down," Lucifer cautioned. He approached from the front of the class with an armful of teaching materials, having been the one to lecture everybody all day. In a way, it was his fault you were in pain.

"Would somebody care to explain why you're all being so rowdy?"

"They hurt their new tail," Belphegor tried to explain in a low, drowsy voice. Having been half asleep, he only caught half of the conversation and let his imagination fill in the rest. He tried to lift his head, but the lecture had been too powerful. He rambled, "It's cool. I'm glad you have a tail now," and went right back to snoozing.

Lucifer wasn't entirely convinced of this explanation. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you recapped, "sitting for so long was kind of painful. I hurt my tail bone."

Beelzebub, with a smidge of chocolate on the corner of his face, turned around to ask the question surfacing on everyone's mind. "Do you have wing bones too? Like we do."

Though not in demon form, you could perfectly picture Beelzebub buzzing his wings while he asked. The answer was a simple "no." Followed by a moment of thinking and a hastily added, "I don't think so."

Mammon tisked. "That's unfair, don't ya think? You oughta have wing bones to match us."

Asmodeus "mhmm"-ed in agreement while Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"It's unfair that I don't have wing bones...?" You struggled to follow his logic.

"It's incredibly fair," Leviathan piped up. "Everyone knows tails are better."

"You wanna say that again to my face?" Mammon spat.

"More of you have wings, so it's more balanced to have another tail-user in the house." Satan believed this was a perfectly rational argument despite you not actually having a tail.

"But imagine how cute they'd look with little flapping wings!" Asmodeus cooed, flapping his hands to match.

"A little tail is even cuter! It can be hidden, like an Easter egg," Leviathan asserted.

The classroom became noisy once again with their bickering. Lucifer motioned for you to step aside, and you did your best to duck out from the growing argument with your head kept low. Your legs still felt stiff. Walking around the desk without bumping anything was a newfound challenge.

So Lucifer reached out a gentlemanly hand to guide you. "I need you to come with me to the Student Council Room." Though stated like a command, it sounded more like a request.

"Am I needed for a meeting?" you asked, reluctant to spend more time at school. The big soft couch at home was calling you.

He started ushering you towards the door and checked to ensure his brothers did not follow. "No. I'd like to educate myself on this tail bone you have, and perhaps even take a look at it."

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic - tw: pregnancy Simon Riley / female reader

"Happy Birthday Orion, happy birthday to you!"

Everyone claps and your baby, no, your one year old, beams, enamored by the attention as his dad leans over and points at the candles. "Can you blow? Like this," he mimics, only to receive a giggle instead, Orion's eyes turning serious as he watches his dad blow the candles out in one short breath, his fists crashing into the cake and then smashing it on Simon's nose.

Your hand settles over your stomach subconsciously.

Everyone laughs. Kyle practically howls, Johnny bending over at the waist. The reaction makes Orion giggle like mad, and you lean against the door frame, soaking it in.

You already sent a million pictures to your family, hoping to alleviate their guilt about not being able to make it, their absence missed but not to a point where you feel it sharply.

Things are just different now.

You've built a life, this life, with Simon and Orion. With Cami, and Kyle, Ellie and John, even Johnny. It's a life you're happy in, a life you love, tucked up in this quiet town, nestled in the hills. The three of you, the wives, formed a friendship, a connection, leaning on each for support, building camaraderie over the long weeks and months of being alone.

Simon clears his throat at your side. "Where are you?"

"Nowhere." You lay your head on him. "I can't believe we have a one year old."

"I know. It's going too fast." He wraps his arms around your shoulders, tucking you close. "Cute bugger though." Orion is half eating his cake, half smashing into onto Johnny's face. He swats your ass. "C'mon. Don't you want a picture?"

Later, when everyone is gone, and the kitchen is clean, and the windows are open to let in the breeze, you teeter at the edge of the room while Simon puts Orion down. "Stop growing up, big guy." He traces two fingers down his cheek, careful not wake him. "Love you." Your heart skips.

"He asleep?" He doesn't even turn. He knew you were there, he always knows where you are in the house, like he can hear your breathing, or sense you.

"He is." You reach for him.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

Simon coaxed your initial agreement to have another baby out when he was holding you on the edge, cock nestled inside you, his uniform scraping against your skin. It was a heat of the moment thing, a 'please make me come' thing, but afterwards-

Afterwards, you sat with it. You sat with it for months. You tossed it back and forth, wavering, walking the tightrope of the decision.

You knew, in your heart, all along.

There was no decision to make.

You curl into him, mangled and mashed against his body, legs twisted together, an arm anchoring your thigh. "You've been thinkin' all day, honey. Don't think I haven't seen ya."

"I have." Your voice is gentle in the dark, soft as a whisper, breathy on his chest. He tenses.

"What is it?" He doesn't like this, you know. Doesn't like when you slip into your own mind. Since the incident, it's been harder, harder for him to feel comfortable, harder for him to push back against his anxiety. He worries, too much. Far too much.

"Everything's fine," you assure quickly, "Everything is okay, Si. I promise." It's building up inside you, a storm destroying everything in its path, fighting its way forward until there's no choice left except to let it out.

"Tell me, mama. Whatever it is, I-"

"I'm pregnant." He freezes.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant, Simon." You're rolled onto your back immediately, arms caging you in, thighs spread and bracketing yours.

"Tell me again." He demands, and you laugh, tangling your fingertips in his hair, tugging on his arm to drag his hand across your lower belly.

"We're having another baby." There's a look in his eye, heavy and wild, rich unending depths, one you're familiar with now, the instinctual, possessive, insane look he gets when you catch him staring at you. He doesn't speak, the silence sparking unease in the back of your mind. "Say something." He shakes his head, rolling down your body until he's nestled between your knees, mouth hot beneath your belly button.

"I'm gonna take care of you, of both of you," he pants the oath, inscribing it, branding you. "I'm gonna take such good care o' you, mama."

"I know Si, I know."

"I'm gonna be here, I'll take leave, text Price right now-"

"Okay, slow down," you knead his shoulders, "we've got a ways to go until you'll need to take leave, okay? Don't worry." His forehead rests on your stomach, and you can't resist the urge to poke at him a bit. "So... you're happy about it then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm very happy." The words are thick, and he keeps his face turned down so you can't see. They sound wet. "I love you. You're everything to me. Orion, you, this baby- I... love you."

"I love you too." He tugs, pulling you close.

"I hope it's a girl. A little piece of you, with your eyes." You smile, stroking his hair.

"We'll have to wait and see."

[boneblushed]

And, boy, you got her

synopsis Rafe’s in charge of the pledges during Rush Week. Hazing isn’t a thing. Making you feel so high school is.

wc 3.6K

a/n omgggg Euro Trip Rafe <3333 I was living on pledgetok last week and just couldn’t not write something about it

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, surveying the crowd over his red cup, “I swear they get scrawnier every single year.”

Rafe nods gravely, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s fucking grim.”

“Like — fuck, look at those two.” Noah gestures toward the shaded veranda, a fresh coat of gloss making its balustrades shine. Huddled in one corner, attempting to take up as little space as possible, two boys donning UNC merch survey the crowd in tandem. “We weren’t that fucking scraggy as freshman, were we?”

“You two weren’t,” Kelce snorts, coming up behind them. Topper brings up his rear, mid-bite of his loaded hotdog. “Thornton definitely was though.”

“Oi!” Topper protests, his words garbled by half chewed sausage. “S’wasn’t that bad. C’mon.” He turns to Rafe then, swallowing his mouthful. “But seriously, you locked in any potentials?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, looking back over Delta Chi’s yard. Unsurprisingly, it’s far too early to say. Though the barbecue that they’re hosting is a good way for pledges to mingle, it isn’t exactly hazing material; they’re going to have to get creative.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, shrugging. “We’ll just have to see I guess.”

He tips back his red cup again, swallowing the last dregs of beer before acquiescing. As he’s about to announce his need for a refill, a few pledges sidle up to their group, looking hopeful.

Not overtly, of course. Painstakingly hiding their eagerness behind an armour of insouciance.

“Rafe,” the tallest of the three greets, handing him another red cup. The golden liquid inside it brims to the surface, its white foam dissolving in mocking. “Hey, bro. You need another?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, hiding a grin. “Shit. Table service already?”

The boy grins in tandem, looking a little sheepish. “Big fan, man. I’m Dylan.” He motions at the two guys on either side of him, wearing matching squints and backwards caps. “This is Rahul and Xav, we’re all here from Trinity.”

“Durham and Chapel Hill?” Noah enquires, whistling approvingly when they nod. “Fuck, we used to love having away games there. Those Trin cheerleaders…”

“Haha, shit, what was that chic’s name again?” Rafe asks then, a pull of mirth as he turns to Noah. “The one you messed around with in junior year?”

“Blake,” Noah answers, groaning in a mock-wistful sort of way. “They didn’t make ‘em like her at the Academy.”

Rafe snorts, sending the pledges a sage glance. “Nah. They made ‘em better.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, so we are allowed to objectify your girl then, Cameron?”

“Damn, so you’re tied down?” Xavier pipes up, his voice gravelly and low on purpose. Overtly masculine, like he’s trying hard to be red-blooded. “Your girl doesn’t mind you partying?”

Rafe frowns. “Why would she mind?”

“Uh,” Xavier balks, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap, “shit. I don’t know… like, doesn’t she get pissed that you’re constantly around sorority girls?”

“HA —” Topper laughs, and then he falters, thwarted by Rafe’s warning glower. “Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just say Cameron doesn’t give her any reasons to be suspicious.”

“Because he’s obsessed with her,” Noah adds, unperturbed by Rafe’s expression. He pauses then, an amusing idea popping into his head. “Which means…” he continues, returning Rafe’s glare with a trust me one of his own, “you guys should be too.”

Rafe doesn’t trust him. Like, at all. He sends him a bewildered look, unsure where he’s going with this. “White — what?”

Noah ignores him. He downs his beer and crushes the red cup in his hand, deftly aiming it at the nearest bag of trash. “So,” he says, eyeing the three pledges with interest. “How serious are you guys about rushing Delt?”

“Pretty serious, bro,” Rahul answers, looking to his friends for support. “Think we got a shot?”

Noah throws his arm around Rafe’s neck, his strong bicep taut as he shoots them a grin. “Depends, man, I might know how we could figure that out though.” He begins to steer Rafe away from them, sending one last, faux-somber look over his shoulder. “Be right back, yeah?”

Rafe, whose bewilderment is quickly giving way curiosity, allows himself to be marshalled out of earshot without complaints.

He shrugs Noah off of him once they’re on the verandah, his features ever-bemused as he turns toward him. “The fuck was that about?”

“Bro, I know exactly how we’re going to haze these motherfuckers,” Noah replies, his voice lilted with mirth. “You know… without breaking any rules.”

The bewildered expression on Rafe’s face doesn’t acquiesce. “Okay… how?”

“Instead of getting them to be our bitches,” he answers, a mischievous grin making home on his features. “We’re going to get them to be our girlfriends’ bitches.”

Rafe frowns. “Bro. What?”

“Cameron, it’s perfect.” He swipes Rafe’s beer from his hand and takes a generous pull. “What do frat guys hate more than being called scrawny as fuck?”

“Uh. Doing assignments?” Rafe answers blankly, still frowning. He doesn’t have it in him to think too hard about Noah’s profferance. He’s on hour two of manning this boring event, hour four since he bid you farewell, and all Rafe can bear to think about right now is the imminent taste of your peach-scented lips.

Noah shakes his head. “No, dumbass. Being called a simp.”

“Wrong,” Rafe answers, “I don’t mind that shit at all.”

“You’re the exception,” Noah replies matter-of-factly. “You and Y/N have always been the exception. C’mon, I’m talking about us,” he places his palm over his breastbone solemnly, “mere mortals.”

Rafe narrows his eyes. “Fuck off. How would that even work?”

“We…” Noah pauses to think, a slightly furrow to his brow, “alright, I got it. We assign the pledges to our girlfriends, one by one. Give them a week to make a good impression — you know, carry their bags, buy them flowers, all that sentimental crap you love.”

“You really think the guys’ll agree to this?” Rafe asks, sounding reluctant. “I mean… I don’t know if I’m alright with a bunch of idiots holding doors for my girl.”

“But you’re an idiot that holds a door for your girl,” Noah answers, not missing a beat.

“Fuck off, White.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be funny. And look… if you’re worried about Y/N, I know she’ll find it adorable as fuck.”

Rafe shakes his head. “No way. She didn’t find high-school me adorable.”

Noah raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You’d be surprised, man. Besides, these guys aren’t going to be like high-school you. High-school you was a douchebag.”

“A douchebag who got the girl.”

“A douchebag who got the girl after he stopped acting like a douchebag.” Noah smirks then. “A douchebag who’d give all these fuckers a run for their money if he was pledging Delt this year.”

Rafe grins in tandem, stealing his beer back to take a big swig. “Alright, shit, alright. Harmless shit though, right? Chivalry and all that?”

“Harmless as hell,” Noah agrees. “C’mon. You really think any of these guys has the balls to make a pass at one of our girls?”

“Easy for you to say, White. You don’t fucking have a girl.”

Noah frowns. “What d’you mean? Aren’t we going halves on Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Noah,” Rafe groans, almost spitting out his mouthful of beer. “If Y/N heard the shit you said when she wasn’t around, she’d probably kill you.”

“Nah,” Noah replies, seemingly unperturbed. “She loves me.”

“Well,” Rafe says grimly, crushing his own empty cup in his head. “She might do now, but she sure as hell won’t by the end of this week.”

—

The first time it happens, you’re understandably perplexed.

You’re en-route to your 9AM, bag strap denting your left shoulder, when a stranger falls into your step and swipes it from your figure. It’s a motion so quick and deft you initially think you’re getting mugged.

As you double back in bewilderment, he proffers, “you alright with this?”

“Uh.” You balk. “What?”

“Your bag,” he answers, readjusting it on his own shoulder. He seems earnest. Nervous, even. “It looked heavy. I can carry it to class for you, if you want?”

You allow a pause to take him in.

“No, I’m…” another pause, more of his demeanour on display. Backwards cap, crisp white polo shirt, smile lines exposing the ghost of a grin on his face. A familiar grin, the kind that pulls a soft, maudlin feeling from your ribcage. “Look, if you’re trying to hit on me —”

“No, no,” he interrupts quickly, his eyes widening in a panic. “Shit — no, don’t tell Cameron I’m hitting on you. I’m just…”

“Wait a minute,” your eyes narrow accusatorially, because of course he’s behind this chivalrous display, “you know my boyfriend?”

The stranger grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Explain.”

“It’s… uh… well — basically, I’m pledging Delt,” he answers haltingly, self effacement juxtaposing his frat boy exterior. “Rafe’s asked us to be all gentlemanly and shit for pledge week, I don’t know. To you guys, I mean. Like… the current frat member’s girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “No he hasn’t.”

“Shit.” He looks far more nervous now that he did five minutes ago. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “No he did not.”

Rafe’s on speed dial. He picks up on the first ring, the way he always does for you.

“Hey baby,” his gravelly timbre crackles through the phone, the low hum of frat house chatter audible in the background. “What’s up?”

“Don’t even. You know what’s up Rafael.”

A pause. When Rafe speaks again, his voice is quick and placating. “It was Noah’s idea.”

“Of course it was.”

“Dylan’s not playing up, is he?”

You raise your eyebrows at the stranger then, assessing him faux-suspiciously. “No way. He’s doing a better job than you ever did in high school.”

“Woah woah woah,” Rafe replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “That fucker’s not calling you dream girl or something, is he?”

“Worse. He’s being respectful of my boundaries.”

“Oh shit. I fucking knew this was a bad idea.”

You shake your head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. The poor stranger’s still standing there at attention, your leather bag looking ridiculous on his arm. “Rafe. Tell me he’s the only one.”

“He’s one…” Rafe starts slowly, sounding sheepish, “of three. Four, counting me.” In the background, you hear Noah pipe up and add, “five, Cameron. How could you forget me?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Noah White,” you shout through the phone.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Noah sings, and then he groans, no doubt shoved to the side by his indignant best friend. It’s Rafe on the phone again, voice sweet and thick as molasses as he says, “they’ll behave, baby, and make your life easier in the process. I promise.”

“What?” You accuse, fighting back a smile. “Like you did in high school?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, the grin on his face audible. “They’ll be nothing like I was, sweetheart.”

“What?” You tease. “Absolutely insufferable?”

“And absolutely in love with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

“They’re under strict instruction. Have a shiner waiting for them if they pull something funny.”

Another exasperated laugh bubbles out of you, and you begin walking forward again, motioning at the boy named Dylan to follow in your step. “Right. So the boundaries are on purpose, are they?”

“The respect, too. No being inappropriate and charming at the same time.”

“And why not?” You ask faux-indignantly. “What if I like being objectified?”

“Can’t have you falling in love with them, can I?”

“Hey,” you argue, frowning stubbornly. “That is not what made me fall in love with you.”

“It isn’t?”

“Well,” you balk, “not solely that.”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he recites devotedly, almost yells, and you can hear the collective groan of his frat brothers in the background. “Are you wearing those Lululemon pants right now? Point is, I’m thinking about your ass in those Lululemon pants right now.”

“Rafe, I was fucking kidding. Stop.”

“No you weren’t.” You know he’s right; you can picture that stupid smirk on his face. It makes your cheeks warm. Asshole. “You’re blushing now, aren’t you?”

“Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees. “No funny business, alright? Just lots of good deeds.”

Good deeds. You suppose you could get used to good deeds, the embarrassment of attention notwithstanding.

You let out a defeated sigh, halting in front of your 9AM class. “You so, so owe me.”

“I so, so love you,” Rafe replies, and it makes your pulse leap; you’ll never get used to this feeling. “See you later, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Love you.”

Dylan waits until you’ve ended the call before saying farewell, dutifully handing your leather bag back to you and giving you a mock salute. The way he does it, all sheepish and genuine with a charming smile on his face, makes your heart twinge in a junior year of high-school sort of way. You’re feeling sentimental. It’s sweet.

You’re reminded of Rafe before he was yours, stumbling over himself to win your favour. Confusing chivalry with courting, objectifying you in the name of flirting.

Insufferable, but sweet nonetheless. You digress.

—

The next time it happens, you’re ambushed at your favourite cafe.

A dutiful Delta Phi pledge has already queued up and purchased you coffee, handing it over to you with a blushing bouquet of tulips.

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly. “Is that…?”

“Uh, an oat iced coffee with vanilla?” He asks, sounding nervous. “I asked Cameron for your order.”

“Didn’t ask me about pastries, though,” a voice behind you adds, rough and familiar with a sweetness around the edges. Rafe circles your waist with ease and pulls you into his chest, sponging a soft kiss to your temple before handing you a brown bag.

A glossy, Daily Bread sticker shines on its exterior proudly.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at him expectantly. “Tell me you didn’t drive back home for a single croissant.”

“I didn’t drive back home for a single croissant,” Rafe replies. He grins then, looking that same, sheepish genuine that pulls a maudlin feeling. “I drove back home for twenty.”

“Rafe. Why?”

“Because you like Daily Bread,” he replies matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.

You shake your head in exasperation, tip-toeing up to press a quick kiss to his lips. It becomes less quick against better judgement. He tastes like spearmint gum and cold brew, the hand he has held to your waist tightening ever so slightly. Slipping under your shirt, massaging the soft skin he finds there expertly, discreetly. Too much for 8am on a Wednesday morning, sans coffee. Your face feels on fire. You pull away in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the freshman pledge balks at the exchange, looking out of place.

Rafe frowns bemusedly at your diffidence, only clocking the reason when you nod over at him.

“I’ll walk her over Ben,” he says, dismissing him. “You’re off the hook, bro.”

“Shit.” The boy named Ben grimaces; he needs to get his hours in, and doesn’t deem this a fair ambush. He scrambles for an excuse. “Right. Can I still give her the flowers?”

“Of course you can,” you beam, accepting them gratefully. You look up at Rafe then, asking, “And if I want to walk with Benjamin?”

Rafe grins down at you, disbelieving. “Do you, baby?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you say, wriggling out of his grasp. “He got me flowers.”

Rafe falters, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sweetheart, I got you a croissant.”

“Ben got me a coffee,” you hedge. “And flowers.”

“Y/N,” he placates.

“Rafael,” you echo, unperturbed by his exasperation. You take a sip your coffee. “I’ll see you later, okay? Ben’s ticking off a good deed this morning.”

Poor Ben looks helpless, taking the brunt of Rafe’s glare as you motion for him to hold the door for you.

“C’mon Ben, we’re going to be late.”

“But…” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to Rafe nervously. “This is fine, right?”

Rafe sighs, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in defeat. “Yeah, bro. You’re good.” He looks to you, then. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m wearing the Lulu leggings.”

“Oh I noticed,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes falling down your figure in slow, reverent paces. “It’s why I want to be the one holding the door for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Men only want one thing.”

Rafe grins. “Yeah. You.”

—

By the end of the week, you’re more used to the chivalry than you’re willing to admit.

You’ve enjoyed free iced lattes and filled your dorm with gorgeous bouquets, no door left unopened and no walk to class left unescorted. And really, every pledge you’ve come across has been pleasant and unassuming, albeit absolutely terrified of Rafe and therefore extra obliging on instinct.

They’ve even offered to do favours for you, got you into sought after Pilates classes and done last minute grocery runs on your behalf. It’s put you in this constant state of mild exasperation, like you can’t believe you’re worthy of this much love and chivalry.

It’s exactly the way you felt back in high-school with Rafe, and this revelation pulls lots of funny feelings from your stomach, from your chest. Feelings you’ve forgotten that are all yours and all his. Because it’s strange, having someone other than Rafe taking care of you. (Or Noah.) It’s strange because it makes you realise just how much he adored you back in the day.

These emotions come to a head at the pledge week closing bash, Delta Phi lit up with fluorescent lights in technicolour. Inebriation ensues, beer pong follows, and an impromptu DJ deck plays endless songs with heavy bass.

Rafe Cameron has you pulled close, as always, the taut muscle of his forearm pressing heat to your exposed waist. You’re a few drinks down and hyperaware of his proximity, ankles touching, thighs too, torsos close with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I think I like Dylan the best,” you announce suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, kneading your skin absentmindedly.

You nod. “He’s sweet. Told me all about his girl back home.”

Rafe grins then, shaking his head bemusedly. “You’re such a sucker for love, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” You glare up at him faux-incensed, looking accusatory. “So are you!”

“Shhhh,” Rafe murmurs playfully. “Not so loud, you’ll fuck up my street cred.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care about street cred?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe agrees easily, leaning down to draw your lips in for a kiss. He’s all patchouli and musk, beer on his tongue and unchaste intentions in his touch. When he pulls away, his lips are still an inch from yours, his voice rougher than it was a second ago, “I don’t care. Like, at fucking all.”

“Good,” Noah snorts from behind him. “‘Cause you never had any to begin with, bro.”

“There you are,” you say then, eyeing Noah over Rafe’s shoulder. There’s a mock accusatory expression on your face, softened by mirth and the alcohol on your lips. “Have you been hiding from me, White?”

Noah grins sheepishly, taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me. When did you become worse than Rafael?”

“I didn’t become worse!” Noah insists. “He just became better. You know, after he got the girl.”

You make a face. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Noah raises his arms in surrender, looking faux-somber, “someone’s gotta teach the next generation, don’t they? I’m committed to their education.” He raises his eyebrows then, a mischievous glint in his eye. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Rafe grins. “She totally fucking loved it.”

You aim a glare at the pair of them, failing miserably at hiding your amusement. “So maybe I didn’t mind it. Sue me.”

“Of course you loved it,” Noah says, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side. “You love Cameron, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Opinions vary.”

“You love me?” Noah tries.

“You fucking wish.”

“Everyone fucking wishes,” Rafe says then, throwing his arm around you too, your figure wedged between the pair of them. Frat boy sandwich, you think tiredly. If high-school you could see you now, you’re pretty sure she’d have an aneurysm. “Especially when you’re in Lululemon.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding. Not really. They all love you, you know that, yeah?”

You look up at him questioningly. “The pledges?”

“Uh huh,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “This is what I was afraid of, you know.”

“What?” You ask, lifting yours in tandem.

“Everyone falling in love with you, like I did in high school.”

You scrunch up your nose at him, your cheeks warming in diffidence. “No one’s fallen in love with me, don’t be silly.”

“I have,” Noah pipes up unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Noah. I saw you talking to Georgia just before.”

Noah grins, pulling away and offering you a mock salute. “Guilty as charged.” He turns to survey the crowd, spotting her figure on the fairy-light lit porch. “Speaking of…”

And he’s gone before you’re able to tease him any further, leaving Rafe to guide you out of his side and into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands exerting a warm, steady pressure into the curve of your waist.

“As I was saying,” you continue, frowning up at him playfully. “No one’s fallen in love with me.”

Rafe’s unconvinced. His gaze skates down your figure again, a tortured groan falling from his throat. “Have you seen you, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, face hot and self conscious. “And even if they have,” you add, “it doesn’t matter.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

“No way. Because I’m in love with you, not any of them.”

Rafe grins then, a devastatingly handsome look on his face. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“I’ll never get used to saying it.”

[lizzyiii]

hi!! i have a request! what about a one shot for aemond x reader who is betrothed to him. she’s a baratheon girl or something but she gifts him the sapphire for his eye as a wedding gift or something along the lines of that?

ask and you shall receive...

The Sapphire Gift

pairing | aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

word count | 5.1k words

summary | Of all his five daughters, Borros Baratheon has chosen you to be betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, much to your dismay. Seeking to forge a deeper connection with your betrothed, you decide to create the perfect wedding gift for him.

tags | fluff, fluff, toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, aemond literally does not know how to communicate or court a lady, sarcastic!reader, awkward!reader, simp!Aemond, reader is just a typical seventeen-year-old girl, lowkey got second hand embarrassment writing this.

a/n | ooooh, this was so cutesy to write, I love writing awkward/sassy reader and simp/awkward aemond. Finished this in a solid 2 days💪. ALSOO I need moots, so anyway wanna volunteer as tribute????

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why must it be me?”

Your voice echoed through the grand hall of Storm’s End, the walls adorned with the sigil of the mighty Baratheons. You stood before your father, Borros Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, arms crossed defiantly, your brows knit in frustration.

“Because I have chosen you,” he replied, a casual shrug dismissing your protests, as he lounged upon the imposing ironwood throne that commanded the room. The flickering torches cast shadows across his weathered face, but his resolve remained steadfast.

Your heart sank further as you protested, “You have four other daughters to choose from!”

Borros began to tally your sisters on his fingers, his expression serious yet unconcerned. “Cassandra is already pledged to House Brownhill, Maris is too old to be of interest, and Floris is still but a child. Ellyn might have been a contender, but she reminded me that you are more closely aligned in age to the prince, which I daresay makes you more appealing to his eye.”

You bit back a curse aimed at Ellyn, whose selfishness felt like a betrayal in this moment, and muttered, “Emphasis on the word ‘eye’.”

“Fawn!” your father snapped, the nickname a remnant of your childhood, now wielded like a blade.

With a huff, you cast your gaze towards your mother, Lady Elenda, seated on a modestly adorned stool that contrasted starkly with your father’s opulence. Her fingers deftly worked at her embroidery, her belly round and pregnant with another child. “Mother, do you have naught to say about this?”

Elenda blinked slowly, her expression momentarily vacant before she smiled dreamily, “I have heard the prince is kind and benevolent,” she replied, her tone light and airy as your father nodded approvingly at her words.

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest in disbelief. “That is a complete and utter falsehood! Tales of his cruelty and wickedness abound, even in these halls. How could you deceive me so?”

Borros waved a dismissive hand, the irritation brewing like a storm within him. “So what if he has but one eye? He commands Vhagar, the largest dragon in the realm, and wields a sword as if it were an extension of his very arm. You shall ascend to the rank of princess, lacking for nothing.”

“But Father—”

“Enough!” His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls and silencing the murmurs of guards and servants alike. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down upon you. Sighing heavily, you rolled your eyes, the gesture laden with pettiness. “This matter is settled. Prepare yourself; tonight we shall feast in honor of your betrothal. Do not sulk—it is unbecoming of a future princess.”

With a final glare that could wither a flower, you turned on your heel, storming away from the throne room, your heart heavy with the weight of your new fate.

King’s Landing was an entirely different realm compared to the windswept fortress of Storm’s End. Here, the sun cast a golden glow over the Red Keep, its warmth caressing the bustling streets of Flea Bottom, while in your home, rain seemed a constant companion, drenching the rugged cliffs and soaking through the halls of your ancestral seat.

The city thrummed with life—vibrant and teeming—overwhelming in its sheer size and noise. In contrast, Storm’s End felt desolate, where the only sounds were the howling gales and crashing waves that eternally assaulted its walls.

Settling into the royal court at the Red Keep was no easy feat, for you were keenly aware of the eyes that followed your every move. You quickly learned that here, every smile concealed secrets, and every word was a weapon to be wielded.

Queen Alicent Hightower, the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, carried herself with grace befitting her station. Her demeanor was gentle, yet there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at the strength behind her polished exterior. On your very first day in court, she welcomed you with a kind smile, her piety clear as she extended an invitation to join her at the Great Sept for prayer.

Her tone was soft, but her words carried the weight of duty. You accepted her offer, though the idea of spending time in such hallowed halls made you uneasy. Alicent's warmth masked the political currents swirling beneath the surface, and you were acutely aware that every gesture here had meaning beyond what was said.

Then there was her eldest son, Prince Aegon. The first time you laid eyes on him, he reeked of wine, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Despite his title, he carried none of the nobility one would expect from a dragon’s heir. His indulgences were well-known, and his lack of decorum often left the court murmuring in hushed tones.

Aegon's gaze lingered on you far too long for comfort, the weight of it unsettling, as if he sought something that wasn’t his to take. His lecherous nature made you feel for his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, who appeared as trapped by her marriage as she was by the walls of the Red Keep. It was said that Aegon had grown old before his time, his twenty-one years bearing the burden of his vices.

Princess Helaena was a stark contrast to her husband. There was an otherworldly grace to her, a softness that seemed untouched by the cruelties of life. She spoke in riddles, her voice often drifting into ethereal musings that left you both puzzled and intrigued. Her words, though strange, reminded you of the whispers of the gods in dreams, distant yet profound.

Her presence was soothing, and you found solace in her company, even if her mind wandered to places you could not follow. Her children, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were a light amidst the shadows of the court, their laughter pure and untainted by the scheming that surrounded them. It was hard to reconcile that they were the offspring of Aegon.

But your thoughts always returned to one person—your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the moment you arrived in King’s Landing, you had been told stories of his fearsome prowess in battle, his unmatched skill with the sword, and the fearsome dragon, Vhagar, that answered his call.

Yet when your eyes met his for the first time, what struck you most was not his strength but the scar that marred his face—a reminder of the price he had paid for his ambition. It only added to his allure, a mark of his relentless determination. When he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, a slow heat rose in your cheeks. His grip was firm but not unkind, and in that moment, you felt yourself swoon. After all, you were just a girl.

However, Aemond was not a man easily won. A moon had passed since your arrival, and with your wedding fast approaching, you had hoped to spend time in his company, to know the man behind the dragonprince’s mask. Yet, he seemed to slip away from you at every opportunity, his presence a fleeting shadow that vanished the moment you tried to reach for him. His evasions frustrated you, each refusal to join you in the gardens or to share a quiet moment only deepened the chasm between you.

It was said that dragons could not be tamed, only respected. But you longed for more than respect from your future husband. How could you hope to win Aemond's heart if he remained as distant as the stars that twinkled in the night sky?

Determined to change your fate, you devised a plan—a gift to offer Aemond before the wedding, something personal and meaningful that might draw him closer to you. From your balcony, you had often watched him train, his sword catching the sunlight as he moved with lethal grace. You had also stalked observed him in quieter moments, lost in the pages of ancient tomes in the Red Keep’s vast library. But no matter the scene, your gaze always drifted to the black leather patch over his left eye, a constant reminder of his loss.

Through whispered conversations among the ladies of the court, you had pieced together the story of that eye, taken from him when he was but twelve, during a violent skirmish with his own nephew. The knife had found its mark, leaving him disfigured and scarred in more ways than one. You could hardly imagine the pain he endured, the maester's delicate, grim task of removing what remained. The very thought sent a chill through you—what it must have felt like to be forever changed, to carry such a wound into manhood.

Jewelry had always enchanted you, especially the way it could transform even the simplest of gowns into something regal. And it was through that love of adornment that inspiration struck. Aemond needed something beautiful, something that would not only adorn him but perhaps bring a glimmer of warmth to that hardened exterior.

After much thought, you settled on a sapphire, deep and blue like the narrow seas, cut and shaped like an eye—a symbol of his lost strength and newfound resilience. It was a bold choice, one that you hoped would capture his attention, something that might resonate with the prince who had suffered so much.

With the sapphire crafted into an exquisite piece of jewelry, you wrapped it carefully, your heart filled with anticipation. The wedding drew closer with each passing day, and the idea of giving Aemond this token before the vows were exchanged consumed your thoughts. Would such a gift be enough to draw him out of the shadows, to make him see you as more than just his betrothed but as someone who truly wished to know him?

Desperation fueled your resolve. You decided to visit his chambers, scandalous though it might be, under the cover of night. It was unheard of for a lady to seek out a man in such a manner, but propriety seemed insignificant in the face of your growing desire to understand him.

Wrapped in a dark cloak to hide your identity from prying eyes, the gift cradled carefully in your hand, you navigated the winding, dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The moon hung high above the castle, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls as you walked with purpose toward his door.

Apprehension seized you as you approached, a wave of doubt crashing over you. What if he rejected your offering? What if he saw it as nothing more than a futile attempt to win his affection, which it kind of was. Yet before those thoughts could take root, you steeled yourself and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Moments passed in silence, each one stretching endlessly until, at last, you heard the soft thud of boots approaching from within. The door creaked open, and there he stood—Prince Aemond Targaryen. His long, silver hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, almost camouflaged against the loose white shirt he wore, which clung to the contours of his lean, muscular frame.

His single violet eye regarded you with a mixture of surprise and caution, the flickering light of the torches casting shadows across his sharp features. You found yourself momentarily breathless, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his presence.

His gaze flicked to the dark cloak you wore, then back to your face, a question lingering unspoken between you. “My lady,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate, “it is late.”

You nodded quickly, casting a nervous glance down the dimly lit corridor. “Yes, I realize. May I come in?”

His lips tightened as though he was about to refuse, but before the words could escape him, you slipped past the threshold into the warmth of his chambers, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze darting around the room, absorbing the details: the few books strewn across the table, the rich, intricate tapestries that adorned the stone walls, and the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth.

Aemond's voice was closer than expected when he spoke again. “My lady,” he repeated, causing you to jump slightly at his nearness.

You turned abruptly, releasing a nervous laugh. In the next moment, you remembered the purpose of your visit and hastily thrust the small, wrapped parcel into his hands. “I—I’ve brought you a gift.”

His brow furrowed in surprise as he looked down at the object now resting in his palm. “A gift?”

You offered a tight, awkward smile, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “A wedding gift, of sorts.”

You watched intently as he carefully opened the small package, revealing the deep blue sapphire you had commissioned. His expression remained guarded, though curiosity danced in his gaze. “What is this for?” he asked, his voice even.

Swallowing hard, you wrung your hands together and took a deep breath. “I thought… perhaps you might wear it in place of your eye patch.”

Aemond's eyebrow arched, his lone eye narrowing in sharp scrutiny. “A decoration for my injury?” There was no malice in his tone, but the words still cut deep.

Your heart sank, panic rising in your chest as you hurried to explain. “No, no! Not like that. I only thought…” Your voice faltered as the words tumbled out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I thought the eye patch might be… suffocating at times. The sapphire—it’s strong and regal, like you. I thought it might be more—well, appealing. Not that your injury is unappealing, of course!”

You cringed inwardly, realizing how foolish you must sound. Eyes cast downward, you continued, “Sapphires are a symbol of wisdom, strength, and royalty. It felt fitting for you. But if I’ve overstepped, I’ll take it back.” You bit your lip, the weight of your own awkwardness pressing down on you. “Truly, it’s alright.”

Reaching out to reclaim the stone, you found your hand halted by his. His touch was firm, yet not unkind. “No,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I accept your gift, my lady.”

Relief flooded through you, though you could hardly bear to meet his gaze under the weight of your own mortification. Without thinking, you blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh! I just remembered—I’m to have tea with your mother.”

Aemond's gaze drifted to the window where the full moon hung high in the night sky. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle amusement curling at the edge of his lips. “At this hour?”

You nodded hastily, your laugh high-pitched with nerves. “Yes, well, a late tea, you see.”

Before he could respond further, you turned toward the door, only to misjudge the frame and bump into it with an audible thud. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I wish you a good night, my prince,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you hurried out.

As you fled down the darkened corridor, you missed the rare sight behind you—the amused smirk that tugged at Aemond's lips and the way his expression softened as he gazed down at the sapphire, the light of the fire casting its blue hue across his hand. Intrigue flickered in his eye, a hint of something deeper, as he tucked the gem into his palm, the gift having made a more lasting impression than you could ever have imagined.

And now it was you doing everything in your power to avoid your betrothed. After that utterly humiliating encounter, where you had gifted Prince Aemond the sapphire for his eye, you had nearly thrown yourself from the balcony in shame. Every misstep, every nervous word, echoed relentlessly in your mind. The way he had looked at you, as though you were nothing more than a foolish girl… you could hardly bear it.

That night, you had made peace with a simple truth: it was perfectly acceptable if Aemond did not like you. You would fulfill your duty as his wife, give him heirs, and that would be the extent of your relationship. Yet, even as you tried to harden your heart, you couldn’t deny the yearning deep within you for something more—a connection, affection, or at the very least, understanding. But you’d sooner face a dragon than approach him again after such mortification.

Now, you found refuge in the company of Princess Helaena, sharing tea in her sunlit solar, where tapestries of butterflies and flowers adorned the walls. Helaena sat in her usual reverie, speaking in disjointed whispers about dreams and prophecies. You had grown fond of her strange, otherworldly nature, even if much of what she said left you puzzled.

Today, however, your tea was constantly interrupted by the young Princess Jaehaera, who was determined to climb into your lap as you attempted to drink. “You have such pretty hair,” she said, her small hands reaching to touch the loose strands that framed your face, her voice filled with innocent awe.

You smiled warmly, gently lifting a strand of her silver-gold hair to place beside your own. “Not as pretty as yours, my sweet princess,” you said softly. The Targaryen blood ran strong in the little girl, her pale locks shimmering like spun moonlight under the midday sun.

As Jaehaera continued to braid a piece of your hair, her twin brother, Prince Jaehaerys, was nestled in your lap, completely absorbed in a heavy tome recounting Aegon the Conqueror’s rise to power. You marveled at the child’s focus, noting how his somber demeanor contrasted starkly with his sister’s. It was strange, you thought, for a boy of only five summers to be so intent on reading a history so grim. His brow furrowed in concentration, a seriousness far beyond his years.

"You’ll grow to be as wise as your grandsire with all this reading, my prince," you commented with a chuckle, though you could not help but feel a touch of unease at how much the young boy seemed to carry the weight of his family’s legacy on his small shoulders.

Jaehaera giggled, abandoning your hair to cling to your arm. “I want to ride a dragon, like Vhagar!”

The mention of Vhagar brought an involuntary shiver down your spine, the thought of that ancient, fearsome beast ever-present in your mind. The mighty she-dragon’s rider, your betrothed, had taken to avoiding you as much as you had him, and though part of you was relieved, another part, buried deeper, ached at the distance.

As you entertained the children, Princess Helaena’s lilting voice broke the calm. "He dreams of fire and blood, my son," she said, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the window, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. "As do we all."

You offered a polite smile, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent..

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, you immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, warmth flooding your cheeks as fluttering butterflies stirred restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, his very presence commanding the room without a single word.

You felt his gaze upon you, sharp and intense. Jaehaera squealed with delight beside you, calling out, “Kepūs!” Her excitement was palpable as she clambered off your lap, rushing to his side. Even Jaehaerys, who had been so engrossed in his book, set it aside to greet his uncle.

You dared a glance up to find something unexpected—a soft, almost tender smile tugging at Aemond’s lips as he looked down at the children. The rare sight caught you off guard, but before you could process it, his expression shifted, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to Helaena.

“Sister,” he began, his voice steady, respectful yet commanding. “Might I steal a moment of Lady Baratheon’s time?”

Helaena, oblivious to the way your pulse quickened, nodded lightly, her gentle smile untouched by the tension you now felt. “Of course, brother,” she replied, her tone light and dreamlike, as though she sensed nothing of the undercurrent between you and Aemond.

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you—Helaena’s distant curiosity, Jaehaera’s wide-eyed innocence, and Aemond’s watchful, unreadable gaze. You rose slowly from your seat, smoothing the folds of your gown as you murmured a soft farewell to the princess and her children, acutely aware of how unsteady your voice sounded.

Aemond stood patiently, waiting as you gathered yourself. His tall figure loomed over you, but there was no sense of impatience in his posture. When you stepped out of the solar, he turned and led the way into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls in perfect rhythm with yours.

The silence between you grew heavier with each step, and the farther you ventured down the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, the more you became aware of where he was leading you—back toward his chambers.

Your palms began to sweat, and your heart pounded with a growing unease. Why had he sought you out? Why now, after so many days of avoidance?

The corridor felt impossibly long, each step building the tension. Aemond’s back remained straight, his silver hair brushing the fabric of his black tunic, his long strides forcing you to quicken your own pace just to keep up.

When you finally reached the familiar door to his chambers, he paused, turning to face you, his one violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The silence stretched, thick and charged, as though the air between you crackled with words unspoken.

"You’ve been avoiding me, my lady," Aemond murmured, his piercing gaze sweeping over you as you walked into his chambers.

Your eyes widened just a fraction, masking your surprise with a nervous laugh. “Why on earth would you insinuate something like that?”

His voice, soft but steady, echoed from behind you as you stepped further into the dim warmth of his room. "Perhaps because every time I enter a room, you are always the first to leave."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you murmured, "I suspect you are just seeing things, my prince."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he replied, “Mayhaps it’s just my one eye.”

Your head snapped up in shock at his words, but before you could respond, you noticed the faint curve of amusement in his lips. For the first time since your engagement, you let out a genuine laugh, tilting your head. “Oh, so you can jest,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose in playful disapproval. “Though your delivery needs some work.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “I shall endeavor to improve,” he replied with dry humor, his voice low.

For a moment, your eyes locked, the silence between you charged with a tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. But then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I called you here for a reason,” he said, his tone shifting as he turned away, walking toward his desk.

Your curiosity piqued as you watched him retrieve something—a finely crafted box, larger than you expected. He carried it with the same ease as he handled his sword, and yet there was a certain weight to his movements. He approached you, his expression unreadable, and extended the box in an indifferent manner. "A wedding gift," he said simply.

Your heart fluttered as you took the box, your fingers trembling slightly. As you lifted the lid, your breath caught in your throat. Inside lay a necklace—silver, adorned with diamonds that glimmered like starlight, white pearls cascading from its base, and at the center, a magnificent sapphire, almost mirroring the sapphire you had gifted him. It was stunning, more than anything you had ever imagined.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the beauty of the necklace had stolen the air from your lungs.

Aemond’s voice softened, a note of vulnerability threading through his usual composure. “Do you like it?”

You met his gaze, your eyes bright with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Yes, yes, of course,” you breathed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced with something more than just relief.

You looked at him, pure joy lighting up your face, entirely unaware of the soft, almost tender look in Aemond's eye as he observed you. Nodding eagerly, you gestured to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Aemond inclined his head in silence, taking the necklace from its box as he motioned for you to turn around. You did so, gathering your hair and lifting it to reveal your neck. The warmth of his presence grew closer, and when his fingers brushed against your skin to secure the clasp, you couldn’t help but wonder if the caress was deliberate or merely your imagination.

When his hands finally withdrew, you released the breath you had been holding. Turning to face him, you tilted your chin up slightly. "How does it look?"

For a moment, Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, his eye fixed on your face with an unreadable intensity before it drifted down to your neck. "Your neck looks... long."

Your brow furrowed, confusion knitting your features. "My neck looks long?"

Aemond coughed, a rare sign of discomfort, and you could swear you caught the faintest hint of pink on his pale cheeks. He quickly amended his words, mumbling, "I mean, it looks nice. The necklace brings out your eyes."

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Thank you, my prince."

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered to the eye patch that hid his injury, wondering if the sapphire you had gifted him lay beneath. The thought of it being there, close to him, filled you with an unspoken sense of connection. You felt content to simply stand there, the moment shared between you without the need for words. But Aemond, shifting slightly under your gaze, seemed less at ease.

“I am late for training,” he said, his tone distant as though eager to escape.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, tilting your head in mock suspicion. “I thought you only trained in the mornings?”

His posture straightened, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away, clearly caught in his lie. The silence that followed made him glance toward the window. “It’s... a beautiful day.”

You hummed softly in agreement, not pressing him any further. “Yes, it is.”

Aemond hesitated for a moment before his eye met yours again, the faintest trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Mayhaps you would be interested in a walk in the castle gardens?”

Your heart skipped, and it took everything within you to suppress the wide grin threatening to break free. You feigned contemplation for a moment before nodding with as much grace as you could muster. “I would love to, my prince.”

And though Aemond kept his face composed, you couldn’t help but notice the slight softening of his expression at your acceptance.

In Aemond's eyes, despite your apparent obliviousness to his growing feelings, it was not hard to fall in love with you. There was a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, a delicate blend of grace and fire that intrigued him.

He had always been reserved, more comfortable in the company of books and the sound of steel clashing in the training yard than in the presence of others. But with you, there was something different, something that drew him in against his better judgment.

Your laugh, though soft, echoed in his mind long after you left the room. The way your eyes sparkled with genuine warmth when you spoke to him—even when you were nervous—was a stark contrast to the calculated interactions he was used to at court.

You were not scheming, not vying for his favor or power. You were simply... you. And perhaps that was what made it so easy for his walls to crumble, little by little, without even realizing it.

When you smiled up at him, asking him to place the necklace around your neck, his heart had skipped a beat. It was such a simple request, yet the intimacy of it made him feel more vulnerable than any duel or battle could. In those moments, he found himself wondering what it would be like to let his guard down, to let you see the man behind the stoic façade.

Even now, as he led you through the corridors of the Red Keep, heading toward the gardens, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances at you. Your presence beside him felt... right. The idea of loving you was no longer something he fought against; instead, it was a slow, inevitable truth that settled in his chest.

In time, he hoped you would see it too.

Headcannon: reader only sees the sapphire in his eye on their wedding night

Headcannon: this is before the dance of dragons and viserys is still alive

Headcannon: aemond is 18 and reader is 17

Ages of the Baratheon daughters:

Cassandra - 25

Maris - 22

Ellyn - 19

Reader (fawn) - 17

Floris - 13

ALSO you cannot change my mind - after having four daughters (canon) Borros Baratheon is def a girl dad!

Hope you enjoyed 💜

[moonstruckme]

Hello! Hope you are well! Maybe could you please write about Spencer and reader constantly reapplying red lipstick to kiss his face omg it sounds so cute

Hope you're well too lovely <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 439 words

You lean in close to the mirror, fighting giggles as you reapply the bright red lipstick you’d bought at the drugstore. 

“They didn’t have lipstick in ancient Babylon,” Spencer points out. 

“I know.” You blot your lips together. “But how is anyone going to know we’re together?” 

Your boyfriend frowns. It’s a familiar expression, not one of upset but of confusion, the dissatisfaction of feeling like he’s missing something. “We are together.” 

You turn around, smiling at him. “We know that, but our costumes are just fabric. The lipstick prints make us look like a couple,” you explain. “I think you could use another one on your left cheek, what do you think?”

Whatever qualms Spencer has with your historical inaccuracies, he’s more than happy to receive your kiss. He tilts his left side toward you, and his cheek dimples under your lips. You hold them there for an extra second just to feel his face warm. 

“Perfect.” It’s impossible to keep from grinning at the sight of your serious FBI boyfriend with his face crammed with kiss marks. You’ve even scattered a few down his neck, stopping only where the toga is trapped across his chest. You pause to study your handiwork. “You know, we wouldn’t have had to do this if we’d just gone as Romeo and Juliette.” 

“Actually, Pyramus and Thisbe were one of the first Romeo and Juliet tragedies, so it’s not dissimilar.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” You roll your eyes, though your smile is irrepressible. It’s hard to resent that, when left to his own devices with the choice of your Halloween costumes, your boyfriend wanted you to dress up as what he described as one of the most romantic stories in Greek mythology. You could have thought of a million simpler ideas, but likely none as sweet. “I think you would’ve made a great Leonardo Dicaprio.” 

“Who?” 

“It’s from a movie, I’ll show you sometime,” you promise, reapplying your lipstick one more time. “My point is, I don’t think a lot of people are going to recognize us as Thisbe and Pyro…”

“Pyramus.” 

“Pyramus. The lipstick is to show that we’re in love.” 

Spencer looks at you in the mirror, a sweet sort of curiosity in his expression. “Aren’t we?”

You blink. “I don’t know, you’re the one who told me the story.” 

“Right, yeah, but I meant you and me.” Spencer seems almost shy. You know he knows the answer, but he likes when you remind him. 

You hum as you turn back around, settling your hands on his shoulders. “What do you think?” you ask him. 

Your lips on his are answer enough. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey Author! I love your BatFam work, and I was wondering if you could write something for the boys (especially Jason 🤤) reactions if the friend they had a crush on told them that their s/o had forgotten their birthday/anniversary/some other important day in their life?

Jason

Finds it insulting that your apparent ‘partner’ hasn’t spoiled you rotten, praise you for blessing their life with your love, time and affection, nor worshiped the ground you walked upon but instead forgot the most important day of your life and for what?

There was no excuse and Jason knew that if he were your man, he’d have everything planned months in advance for you, things such as a long winded letter that told you how much he adored you; followed by plenty of small gifts with deeper meanings for the pair of you scattered throughout the apartment.

However the grim reality was that he wasn’t your man, you were in the arms of someone who didn’t know what they have is someone who is one in a million.

He’d would try and attempt to write something sweet and heartwarming for you, all in hopes of replicating the very things he reads in books, and while he may not be good at it but he’s more then willing to try for you regardless.After all it was more effort than what your partner was putting in, claiming you weren’t worth the headache of planning for anymore.

Something so which that upon finding out, only proved to piss Jason off as to him that wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything at all and you certainly shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such..laziness. So while his best might not be good, but it sure as hell was a masterpiece in comparison of doing nothing for you like your asshole of a partner. He’d get you a plush that looked like him and tell you that it’s hiding a message, or a little gift that you might like, something for you to open when you were alone to read and or open the packaging.

If your partner was out for the night then Jason would have you come over to his place where he- with the help of Roy and dick- had decorated his apartment to celebrate you and everything that was you. You might find yourself wearing his hoodie for the night before having to take it off when you had to go home, but Jason would sneak it into your bag while you weren’t looking and when you eventually found it alongside a note telling you that once you were tried of that fool, come and find him.

You were left imagining a life where you had chosen Jason over your pathetic partner and how much more colourful life would be in comparison, but for now you’ll guess that it’s black and grey until you defied that enough was enough.

Bruce

Spends money on you, like serious money amounts of money on anything your heart desires because you deserve the most.

Sure it’s under an anonymous name but it doesn’t take long for one to figure out that it was from Bruce Wayne, for one the gift was expensive for even the most richest of families to afford so effortlessly, not without feeling the impact on their bank account.

Not Bruce Wayne however, never Bruce Wayne as even the most expensive gift in Gotham was an easy purchase for that man, and he’ll happily get if for you with the snap of his fingers, for anything you could ever want was as easy as breathing to come true for the billionaire.

He’d even personally come to your home and invite you to dinner over at his manor, only if you were interested of course he wasn’t going to pressure you.

‘But I’ve got nothing fancy to wear mr Wayne.’ You’d reply.

Bruce waves his hand. ‘Please call me Bruce, and there’s no need for fancy attire just whatever you feel comfortable in because you’d look charming regardless.’

You’d smile, this was the nicest compliment you’ve ever gotten, seeing as how your partner doesn’t even bother taking you out anymore, claiming you were costing them hard earned money and weren’t worth the headache. Something that Bruce disapproved of heavily, sighting that your partner was lazy, unappreciative and neglectful of you in every aspect of the word, and he wasn’t about to allow that to continue.

He was going to show you that you deserved more. That you should look for more from a partner -him- because you deserved someone who was more than willing to have you and isn’t afraid to show you off. *cough* him *cough*

Damian

Like father like son but Damian would gift you small trinkets that he knew you’d like, not because it was to spite your pathetic excuse of a negligent partner but because you deserved to be showered in such gifts.

You deserved to be treated more then how your current partner was treating you in general, and he’ll gladly show you such as he takes you out along with the dogs. Not only would he bring the dogs but he’d take you on a park date where you both painted on canvases, eat sweet treats and just have an overall good time together.

You know like a proper couple. Your partner should take notes.

Damian would tell you that you should break up with your partner, straight up, no mincing his words, he truly thinks that if one is unhappy on their relationship they should just leave and search for someone better. In this case your better partner was him, simple as that.

He wants you to wake up and realise that the better you’d wish to have was right in front of you, more than ready to lay down his life for you at any minor inconveniences should you ask him to. That and the dogs love you to death and didn’t like your partner neither as they’d growl at them to show their distain for the shitbag.

‘It’s Gotham, there is no better Damian, there’s just what you get and you have to live with it.’ You told him as you overlooked the city.

‘There is.’ Damian stated as he stared at you, the crappy city lights made you look angelic in his eyes and he’ll badly die on that no matter what. Then he glanced down at your hand, wanting nothing more than to hold it within his own, keeping it warm and safe in his like he should’ve from the start. ‘They…just weren’t fast enough to save you from that poor excuse for a partner.’ He adds with venom when referring to your partner.

You glanced over at him, searching him for a bluff but only finding the truth when his eyes remained on you, baring it all for you to read until you were satisfied. Damian wasn’t going to do anything until you make the first step and cut ties with your current partner and seek him out afterwards, so until then he’ll wait, he’ll always wait.

Dick

Takes you on an impromptu date…as friends of course…unless…👀

Dick thinks your partner is well….a dick for not wanting to spend time with you during your special day, but yet was more then willing to take your mind off of something negative and make something positive for you to focus on. Dick believed you shouldn’t have to be miserable and alone because someone else couldn’t be bothered to shower you in affection and appreciation.

He’ll gladly do so in their stead by locking arms with you, putting his hand on your lower back when in crowded areas, or just finding some way to keep hold of you however he could to prove that a love should go deeper then spoken words. Words to dick can only display feelings so far before you have to show it through other means and dick was the most affectionate when he was with you.

It was almost as though whenever he was within your presence, he felt the need to hold your hand, smile at you in a way that was special for the both of you, hold your face in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours while staring deeply into your eyes. Anything and everything he could think of dick found himself wanted to do with you and only you, and so if your partner wasn’t going to spend time with you, dick will and he will do it because he wants to be with you.

To Dick, being with you wasn’t a chore or an obligation to him, he wanted to be with you because he genuinely likes you and so much more.

Dick will bring Hayley because you loved her so much, and he will bring her often just to see you smile as you greeted the dog with open arms as she licked your face with affection. After all everyone loves dogs.

Dick would show you everything you’re missing out on and leaving you with the question; were you with the right person?

Tim

Finds it despicable that your partner couldn’t be arsed to spend time with you or get you gifts. He knows he can do a thousand times better than him. A thousand times better then him but I’d only he asked you out first before the rat of a person did, it’s a regret he holds within his heart and blames his hesitance for on many instances.

Tim would go so far as to find online shops and spend -on Bruce’s credit card no less because this man has those numbers memorised- on things that he remember you saying in passing that you liked but couldn’t afford unfortunately.

He’d have movie nights with you as you both shared his computer, eating pizza and your favourite sweets that he just so casually remembers, all the while just being over all comfortable with one another as sooner or later you’d rest your head again his shoulder.

Now this wouldn’t have looked like much, but when you had a crush on someone who was with someone who didn’t treat them like you did, Tim felt ask though he was within his one little dimension with you. He felt as though he was living the dream he was too afraid to make reality, he felt how right this was and how perfectly seamless this all was between the two of you; this was the dream he wanted to live with you in but until you break up with that prick, he couldn’t give you the life you so deserved in his eyes.

‘Thank you Tim.’ You said sleepily.

‘For what?’ He asks.

‘For everything, for remembering.’ You replied as you continued to watch the movie whereas Tim kept looking at you with a solemn look. You shouldn’t have to thank him for this, not at all because he’d gladly repeat this scenario countlessly for you if you so wanted.

‘No need to thank me,’ Tim told you, ‘I’m just doing what any other would’ve done for you.’ He adds awkwardly, still feeling the regret of not asking you out fast enough for his one liking as he offered you some sweets as the next movie played; ironically it was about a boy pining for someone who is in a shit relationship. Tim silently groaned as he was forced to watch what felt like his current situation play out before him, while you only snuggled up closer to him and casually saying.

‘This is one of my favourites.’

Tim knew even the devil would wince at his predicament, finding it enough torture for him as it was. He only hopes that you break up with the prick sooner rather the later before he says something stupid and by accident.

[hoshifighting]

Okay, bear with me cause this might be a strange one, but, how do you think seventeen would react if their s/o wanted to like ‘play’ with their dick.. but like not in the way of ‘here’s a handjob’ but sorta ‘so what happens if I rub your balls like this ?’ Like they just want to poke and prod and maybe lick it

More from like a ‘I don’t have a dick and I wanna know what happens’ kind of perspective. I guess? Sexual scientist s/o vs seventeen lol

sexual scientist s/o x seventeen

warnings: smut, cock/balls play(?)

seungcheol’d try to act all strong and everything, like it’s no big deal, but the second your fingers graze his balls? yeah, he’s groaning like a whoooore. “b-baby, what are you doing?” he’d ask, voice shaking, but honestly, he’s not telling you to stop—he’s curious to see what you’ll do next.

jeonghan smug idiot omg hes a menace stoooooop. he’s laughing at first, all “you really wanna know what happens?” then you start rubbing, and his eyes go wide, mouth falling open as his cock twitches. “oh fuck, okay, maybe— maybe you’re—oh!”

joshua would be a blushing mess. he’s trying to act polite about it, like, “uh, baby, what are you—ohh…,” but the second your hand gets anywhere near his tip (or perineum cof cof), he’s gasping, hips jerking up into your touch. “oh, wow, okay, that feels… good? actually, too good, if you keep going—” he’d definitely let you experiment more, though, no questions asked.

junhui’s all for it. he’s watching you, a little too excited. when you start touching him, he’s moaning loud, throwing his head back. “fuck, you really don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

hoshi would be confused but... why not? “uh, is this like… a game or something?” he’d ask, until you start rubbing, and then he’s losing it. his breath hitches, and he’s trying not to make a sound, but it’s not working. “holy shit—okay, NO DONT SQUEEZE IT.”

wonwoo’d be a little shy about it at first, wondering what you’re up to, but he’s not stopping you. “what are you trying to figure out?” he’d ask, half-laughing, until you hit the right spot, and then he’s gasping, eyes fluttering shut. “shit… yeah, keep doing that.”

woozi’d act like he’s too cool for it, smirking down at you, saying something like, “you’ trying to conduct an experiment? there's nothing special about it” but the second your fingers slide down, his breath catches, and he’s shifting his hips, trying to play it cool. “ah, ah, fuck, okay, yeah, I get it now.”

minghao’s laughing softly at first, kinda enjoying watching you be all curious about his body or male body. “you wanna know what happens if you touch there?” he’d tease, but then you do it, and he’s biting his lip, trying so hard not to moan. “oh… okay, okay is enough.”

mingyu, poor baby would be so confused at first, blinking down at you like, “baby, is not even a pretty thing like, balls? really?.” the second you touch him, his body reacts on instinct, hips bucking up into your hand, and he’s gasping, eyes wide. “oh my god, you better be quick…”

seokmin would be giggling at first, thinking you’re messing with him. “are you serious right now?” he’d ask, when you start rubbing, his laugh dies, and he’s groaning, voice all shaky. “babe… do that again.”

seungkwan’s so embarrassed, blushing bright red, trying to make a joke out of it. “oh, you’re really gonna…?” and when u touch him, he fucking whimpers eyes fluttering shut as he grabs at the sheets. “yeah yeah, you can do it again…”

vernon = blank stare. he’s so confused at first, like, “why would do something like that? oh, a research?” but once your hand moves lower, he’s gone. his voice catches in his throat, and he’s gripping your wrist. “wait—what the fuck, that feels… so good.”

chan “you’re really gonna try that?” he’s all talk until you actually do it, and then his mouth falls open, a shaky moan slipping out. “oh shit, that’s—its sensitive! what the fuck did you do? b-but don't stop…” he’s 100% into letting you experiment all you want.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋdon't ask what are we, i like it baby.𖤐

pairing: situationship!gojo x reader

synopsisꨄ. the affection shared between you not only in public but private made everyone think you were together, but the one time they were right about your 'relationship', it made satoru upset. maybe he should make you official.

you honestly couldn't pick out when this started with satoru.

the gravitational pull towards each other, fleeting touches of the hand and the fluttering of eyelashes. the hand holding and kisses, laughing at his jokes even though they weren't always that funny.

finding comfort in each other, even though you really shouldn't grant him your presence. you always did though, open arms or a lap for him to lay on, a person for him to confide in. but even as he kissed you, tucking your hair behind your ear as words were lost to the pumping of your heart in your ears, it'd never progressed further.

no dates were in your future, no promise ring or flowers, no way you'd ever be able to call the satoru gojo yours in the near future.

but that didn't mean he didn't act like you were already his. like he wasn't entitled to your affection and love. as you scrolled on your phone mindlessly in the hallways, he wrapped his arms around you shamelessly. making people raise their eyebrows in confusion as he spoke directly into your ear, asking you what you were doing, where you were going, if you wanted to do things with him.

how he'd walk you to the dorms everyday, walk in like he owned the place as he laid down right smack middle of your bed. patting the side next to him as if it was only natural for you to be beside him so intimately.

how he'd skip out on hang outs with his friends just to come bother you at night, knocking on your door with sweets in hand, smiling at your half asleep self. “got room for one more?” he leant against the doorframe, he knew you'd let him in.

“weren't you hanging out with geto and shoko?” you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, as he responded while walking in and closing the door behind him. “yeah, wanted to be next to you though.” his face leaned close to yours, you could smell his expensive perfume as he laid his head in your shoulder.

he didn't leave that night.

how he spoke to you so sweetly, so deeply intrigued with you. as he stared as your face, eyes not leaving it as you spoke. “and.. um– what happened was…” he'd moved closer and tilt your head up with his hand. “go on, i was listening.”

the late night talks that always lead to more, your lipstick smudged and smeared against his lips as you grew obsessed with each other.

conversations would take place in the car, his eyes would hyper focus on your lips, you were just trying to speak but it always ended with you two breathless, conversations forgotten.

he didn't feel okay if you weren't right by his side, or if he didn't know your whereabouts. it was like having a clingy boyfriend who texted you every hour, asking where you'd be and if you were okay. though, despite this it wasn't anything more than a friendship.

he always felt truly happy around you. more than a weapon, more than the strongest sorcerer you saw him as him and nothing more. you held him as if you were just two normal people in love, he'd hold back as if your love was fleeting, not timeless but limited. he'd hold on for as long as you'd let him, which usually was until morning.

any conversations you tried to have about your relationship, asking if this was serious or not was quickly played or brushed off, your heart cracking slightly everytime he ignored you. the times you did manage to get a response out of him were full of, “what we have now is perfect, why ruin it?” and “labels are no fun anyways, you're fine aren't you?” you'd kick him out of your dorm, or leave where ever you were at when he said that. but you always ended up back with him again, running his hands through your hair the next day. he'd text you throughout the night, spouting apologies and promises mixed in with stupid emojis. you'd resist the urge to respond for a while, but you gave in. you always did for him.

he who held your heart in his hands, who chose to love and neglect it all within the same hour even, who you'd let continue being in control. honestly, you didn't know why yourself.

your relationship, or whatever you had going on, had just become so obvious to everyone around. people had started questioning you about it, shoko being the first to ask you so directly though. during a random hangout of yours, lazing around as you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, attention drawn elsewhere, she just came out with it. “so, are you two dating or something?” it was obvious who she was referring to, there was no one else who was so outwardly forward with you. but you rushed to correct her, even though it was something you thought about often yourself. “what? me and satoru are just friends, that's all.”

a moment passes over, her eyes locking into yours. “but you want more don't you? it's kind of cruel of him to be doing that to you actually.”

“you have no idea.”

little did you know, gojo was undergoing a similar conversation with geto, who eyed him and shot a knowingly look at him. “so, you and [name] aren't dating right?”

satoru was caught off guard by the comment as well, but he quickly recovered and went to make a joke about it. “what? no way. we're just friends.”

a thoughtful look came over geto’s face as he looked over gojo again. “then, you have no problem with me asking her out, right?”

the look that came over satoru was almost laughable, how his eyes widened and lips snarled into a scowl. how his fists balled up and his finger pressed against geto’s chest as he let out an angry, “no.”

“why not?” a dumb smile came over geto’s face. now mirroring his previous actions to shove a finger against his chest. “you know why.” satoru grabbed his hand and yanked it away from him, then walked off angrily, a puff of smoke almost being visible above his head.

geto could only laugh at how hopeless he was, and he'd be right.

you were still hanging around with shoko, outside and picking apart the clouds in the sky. though, you were cut off by a slightly annoyed satoru gently grabbing your hand. “come with me.” was all he said before he pulled you up with him, you waving bye frantically to shoko as he basically pulled you along, his longer strides being hard to keep up with.

he took you further outside than you were, surrounded by trees as he looked you up and down. you were just so pretty, so understanding, his voice was getting caught in his chest.

“satoru?” your voice snapped him out of his lovesick trance, his hands found yours and gripped them tightly, entangling the fingers within yours. he took a steady, deep breath, his hair was being blown back by the wind as his blue eyes finally landed onto yours again.

“[name].” he started, his heart already racing at the fact that your attention was all on him. “i– i should've done this a long time ago.”

your head tilted to the side, pulse quickening to match his, you bit your lip as you pondered over exactly what he meant, but he continued. “you– you're special to me. the things i do– we do- are special to me. the thought of you kissing, or being with anyone else,” his grip on your hands tightened impossibly, “it.. it upsets me.”

“i know it was wrong, wrong of me to expect you to wait around. to expect you to just be available for me whenever i wanted. but.. i– i just couldn't voice my feelings for you. you're like a safe place for me, a safe haven i could go to.”

he took another deep breath, having to look away from you for a moment. “i want to be that for you. i don't want someone else to come and take you away, i want to be as special to you as you are to me. no matter how selfish that makes me.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if awaiting rejection. “so, be mine. and i'll be yours. please.” his hands shook in your wake as he waited, hearing the gasp you let out from under your lips. he wasn't sure if it was from his proximity, from his question, or from something else but all he knew is that you let go of his hands.

his heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach, eyes widened and teary as he looked at you, but his words were cut off by the feeling of your hands on his face. of the sight of your teary eyes that matched him. “of course, dummy.” with a kiss that felt as if it was your first, you sealed your promise. he couldn't help the smile that played over his mouth as he kissed you, couldn't help himself from falling back into your embrace.

he couldn't help but realize that you held his heart in your hand, how you cared for it and made him feel alive. that scared him, scared him so bad that he'd willingly played with your heart in the process.

but as you two laid on the grass, pointing out shapes in the sky together as usual, seeing you in the sun as a heart-shaped cloud came out at the perfect time,

he knew he did right by you, finally.

he kissed you again, bound by his love for you. bound by the fact that he wouldn't need to worry about this, not if he dedicate himself to you as much as you did him.

as much as you deserved.

[strawberryblue-blog]

The way I look at you

—Jude Bellingham.

summary: Being Jude's Spanish teacher and having a secret relationship with him makes you feel insecure after a situation.

warnings: yes. +18. friends to lovers, smut, explicit content, unprotected sex, p in v, discomfort, angst, etc.

words count: +2.9k

The chill of the night hit your body as you stepped out onto the balcony of the hotel dining room as you felt suffocated by so many people around you. You sighed as the nerves prickled in your belly and you pushed the ideas out of your head. It was the end of the year party that the Real Madrid team gave for their players and so on, it consisted of a thank you and toast with the delivery of some awards to the players and that. It was your first time here and it was also the first time in your life that you felt so insignificant.

The people in there were nothing like you, well yes there were some worthwhile ones but most of them were rich and important people compared to you. With high ranks in their positions, famous, exemplary and recognized and of course, the players of the team with their families.

Being Jude Bellingham's Spanish teacher and agreeing to come here as his "casual date" had been a disaster. Especially since he had been introducing you to everyone as his "friend", only his good friend. You don't even know why you had agreed to come tonight in the first place, it was obvious that you and Jude were not in a serious relationship and you were just friends. You felt disappointed and confused.

"Y/n?" he asked peeking out the door as he saw you with your back turned.

You turn your body to see Jude walk out and close the door as behind the doors people chatted, laughed and toasted.

"What are you doing here?" he insisted at your half smile. "Here" he took off his jacket and rested it on your shoulders.

"Thank you" you murmured slowly with kindness.

"Everything okay?" his hand slyly caressed your waist. You nodded barely smiling slightly at him.

"I just needed air" you tilted your head and hugged your body.

His gaze quickly darts inward and you assume he's checking to make sure no one is watching and when he sees no one is paying attention, he moves towards you and kisses your forehead softly as he hugs your shoulders.

Your belly flutters as you feel his warmth on you but the urge to cry threatens. You hate not being able to hold his hand in public, hug him or kiss him. You hate having to say that you're friends, that you're just his Spanish teacher and that you have nothing more than a good, professional relationship.

You don't want to worry him but the urge to go home doesn't leave you alone. You know that if you leave now he will want to come with you and you don't want to leave him without telling him either but you don't feel part of this place anymore.

"I think I'll go home" you mutter somewhat exhausted.

Jude looks at you, pulling away a little. He nods, patting your arms.

"Okay, let's go" he says taking your hand to guide you. But you stop him before he can move forward.

You don't want him to leave because of you. It's barely past midnight and you feel a little guilty that he's leaving so early, even though he doesn't really like parties, this is his chance to get to know his classmates better.

"You don't have to come, I can take a cab" you tell him kindly.

Jude declines.

"I came with you, I'm going with you" he mutters amused.

You nod with nothing else to do. You know it's not easy to convince Jude and he won't let you go home alone. You accompany him to greet his classmates and elders, staying by his side while they finish talking.

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart" says Maca, Lucas Vazquez's wife. The other girlfriends and wives greet you animatedly as you say goodbye to them.

When you both finish saying goodbye and greeting, you walk to the parking lot in complete silence. The ride home is silent, Jude even tries to ask you questions but you just answer with the necessary.

When you arrive home, Jude accompanies you to the door but this time you walk hand in hand, together and quietly. Your heart aches but you don't want to ask, you don't want to sound distant or ruin whatever it is you have. Though doubts begin to fill your head, tonight Jude has proven that you two have nothing serious and maybe it was only you who saw it differently. Maybe you thought you two could become something and you weren't.

As you pass the key in your door, Jude stands behind you and you turn to see him.

"See you tomorrow, Jude" you greet with a smile, taking off his jacket to give it back to him.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asks teasingly with a chuckle.

You deny with a smile.

"Then let me in" he points out and you scurry to let him pass quickly apologizing for your distraction.

He was so beautiful. His gaze stays glued to yours and your heart expands in your chest. His expensive black suit is delicately pressed, the white shirt is marked on his body so strongly. How could he be so handsome and gentlemanly like that?

His fingers caress your once arms up your cool skin. His face comes close to yours and before he kisses you, you take his hand and walk inside the house. You can tell he's surprised and probably confused, you haven't let him touch you since you got back but you honestly don't know what you want. Or what's right.

You take off your shoes and Jude sheds his walk a little following you around the house as you arrange things.

"There's something wrong" he mutters when you stop in the kitchen. His hands rest on his waist and he looks at you curiously.

"What are you talking about?" you ask pretending to be oblivious.

You set the glass of water down on the sink after drinking and offer him something but he declines.

"You look weird" he says as you walk back to your room to change. "Like you're upset or angry" he insists behind you.

"Nothing like that, Jude" you deny walking towards the bathroom in your room.

You remove your makeup with a damp towel and wash your face, finally combing your hair. Jude snorts sitting on the end of the bed as he continues to watch your every move. When you return to the bed, Jude is still there, waiting for you. You walk over to him and position yourself between his legs, cupping his face. He wraps his hands around your hips and pulls you closer to him as you gently kiss his lips in a simple, warm touch.

His large hands slide down your back until they reach the zipper of your evening gown, his fingers grope the area and he begins to unfasten the garment. His lips have never left yours as his hands take care of pulling down your straps and the bluish colored piece that covered your body, disappears from his vision and is left lying adorning the floor.

You cannot refuse, you are bewitched under his control. Jude is delicate and careful with you that makes your heart wallow with love. You can't be angry with him, you can't reproach him for anything, you can't help but feel special when his hands touch you, his eyes see you or his lips are on yours.

Your hands cradle his face as they pull away from his kiss, Jude's chest is heaving and yours is heaving with happiness, his smile is marked when he sees you in front of him, naked and ready for him.

"Tell me what it is, please" he murmurs as his eyes look deep into yours.

"It's nothing, Jude, don't worry" you say again with a small smile and he denies.

His face moves to your chest and he leaves a chaste kiss between the hollow of your breasts, starting to move over one of them and down to your belly. His hands outline your waists gently as his lips continue to place small kisses on your skin, making you gasp and try to hide them.

"You don't have to lie, I know you, Y/n" he insists against your skin, making you bristle.

You sigh in surrender. He really does know you and he knows something is wrong, despite your lazy effort to hide it.

"I felt overwhelmed, that's all" you barely say and he looks back at you with his eyes waiting for you to keep talking.

You don't want to keep talking, somehow you're a little embarrassed to admit that maybe you were your ideas and what you two had was casual or he really saw you as a friend.

The look in his eyes was still confused and his expression on his face invited you to keep talking.

"Lying about us... it makes me feel insecure like we're really nothing and.... I can't stand it" you shut up right away noticing how you exploded.

It sounded like complaining and you didn't want to reproach him. And maybe you're asking for too much but you don't want to keep feeling this.

You're in love with him, from the first moment you two met. It was two years ago when Jude had just arrived in Madrid. You became his Spanish teacher after your friend got you the job through an acquaintance, you started giving him classes, teaching him the basics and everything he would need.

Jude was a good student, he was smart, quick and patient but most of all he was a good man. Attentive, caring and brilliant, how could you not fall in love with him? And yes, you understood that you had at first only a professional relationship, after a while you had become good friends but now it was different.

You started to understand each other, to share moments together, to go out, to stay at home after classes and things like that. You got used to each other and he was the first one to ask you on a date, a romantic date where he kissed you and you started dating.

You knew you couldn't make it official, Jude was very well liked by the fans and a romantic relationship was the last thing they expected from him, either for publicity or for his performance on the field. So you decided to keep it private. Or at least whatever you guys had, it only went from the door in. You were going slow and testing but you were still his teacher and you still had to do your job, so you used to see each other from time to time.

You had never talked about it but you were fine. You started seeing each other more often, you went out to eat, he stayed at your house, you kissed, you spent the nights together, you did the typical couple things without having a title and it didn't bother you. Until today.

Tonight you were hoping that he would be able to recognize what you had and introduce you to everyone as more than just his friend and teacher. That wasn't the case though and so you were somewhat disappointed. Not with him, not with you, but with the situation. And with yourself.

"But it's okay" you say again trying to downplay it.

You didn't want to aggravate him now with all this reproach It wasn't even his fault, it was his decision and maybe you expected something else.

"No, it's not" his hands help you sit on his lap. "I should have asked you what you wanted, I just assumed we were fine like this but clearly we're not" he says concerned.

"It's nothing, Jude" you deny with a smile. "It's just stupid stuff from me, it's not your fault" you pat his arm.

His eyes look up at you shining and you smile at him reassuringly. Jude shakes his head and takes your face.

"I don't want you to think that, you're important to me, you know that?" he questions and you nod in relief. "You're my girl" he mumbles something and of course.

You laugh caressing his skin as he smiles towards you.

"You think they don't know, Y/n?" he asks laughing flirtatiously with his amused expression. "No one takes a woman as beautiful as you to one of those dinners just because she's your friend, do you think?"

Now his hands run down your body again and down to your back to grab you and turn you over your weight. With a squeal, you remain underneath his muscular body and you smile as you watch him lick his lips.

"They know very well that friends don't look at each other like that..." his eyes roam over your face admiring it in detail.

"Not the way I look at you" he continues to whisper as his hand runs down your leg, past your thigh and belly but his eyes never fail to meet yours.

It is an extraordinary connection, the way he makes your world spin, the way your heart pounds as you listen to him, the way his gaze penetrates yours with such dedication, admiration and praise. The stars can be seen in the deep, dark sea of his eyes and you are sure they reflect yours as well. He is really seeing you, not just looking at you, he is observing you, analyzing you, studying you, contemplating you.

At this moment you feel bad for having doubted Jude at first, it's obvious you were just overreacting but you can't help it when he's by your side. He is a gorgeous, polite and confident man. You are in love with every part of him and you were afraid you were the only one in the relationship.

With every touch from Jude, your skin would crawl, your heart would race and your chest would burn with excitement. Jude was the only person who had ever made you feel this special, made you feel full of joy and freedom. He was the one person you wanted by your side, that you wanted to kiss and love.

"You are the most precious thing I have" he says coming closer to your face. A smile appears on your lips and you hold his face warmly.

"And you are mine, Jude" you whisper sincerely.

Without another word, his lips impacted with yours and this time, there was no gentleness in his kiss. It was solid, hard and wild. Like a desperate, needy, longing kiss. His body was perfectly positioned between your legs and his hands began to spread over your body, caressing every bare corner of your skin.

His clothes were a problem just now and quickly your hands found the buttons of the lucid white shirt and began to detach one by one as you continued to eat your mouth. Literally. It didn't take long for him to detach your bra and throw it somewhere in the room with his shirt. Your hands contoured every hard muscle of his back and chest, tracing lines on his skin, on his juicy and soft skin.

Your tongues battled together, caressing each other as your hands couldn't reach out to touch each other where they could, feeling your fingers burn across his skin. You don't know how long you spent kissing but you know it was enough to make you both hot, needy. Your crotch ached and your erect nipples begged to be licked, caressed by his tongue with every movement, you wanted Jude in every way possible.

The grown bulge rubbed against your lower belly as you tried to unbutton his dress pants but your fingers trembled with pleasure as his kisses drifted to your breasts, kissing them in greeting and then taking one with his mouth, kissing it. Your hands held his back as his gasps echoed on your sensitive skin, you wanted him to touch you. And Jude knew it, his strong hands spread your thighs beneath him and his fingers slipped into your crotch, moving closer to your center, where he began to knead over the fabric and at the same moment his mouth bit one of your nipples, making you squeal. Your back arched and the tips of your toes compressed as you cried out his name.

"Fuck, Jude" you moaned sobbing.

He did it again, this time stroking your wet lips, up and down, helping you to spill your own juices over your center. He caressed your clit with his fingertip, while his lips continued to maul your erect and pink nipples. Your fingers had become anchored in the sheets, crinkling them as you sought to hold back from something as the waves of pleasure lapped at your body. When he groped your hot spot, a moan escaped your lips and you bit your tongue silencing yourself as his fingers made room in your hole. Wet, hot, tight. Again you pressed him against you again, needing his touch as his fingers began to pump inside you, in a torturous, overwhelming thrust in and out.

You were so sensitive, that at any moment you would come and even though you needed it, you wanted to end up with his cock inside you. With your hand you stop him and Jude quickly understands, pulling away from you to sensually pull your panties down your legs. A smile appears on his lips as you are completely at his mercy, your legs spread wide, your wetness dripping and your heart leaping.

He stood up a little to remove the last of his clothes that were also left on him and positioned himself between your legs again. Your fingers dug into his back as his crotch brushed against yours, seeking some relief from so much need but you both knew you didn't need just that.

His palms covered your breasts, which fit perfectly into them and he squeezed them hard making you squeal, streams of pleasure hit your wetness and you could feel how much of a client you were down there.

You wanted to feel him inside.

With a single thrust, you climbed over his body, sitting on his hard belly. His muscles tensed and he watched you from below, you on his body, hot and ready to take him. He bit his lips as your hands caressed his bulge, gripping it and squeezing it a little. A choked gasp came from Jude's mouth as you continued to move your hand over his swollen crotch.

After helping him remove his underwear, you went back to sitting on his lap as he straightened up to sit with you. You cupped his delicate face, kissing his lips patiently and softly. His full lips were your undoing, you would never tire of kissing those luscious lips as delicious as Jude's.

His hands roamed up and down your back as you took his member and positioned it at your entrance, playing a little at your center with the warm wetness of your pussy. Slowly you began to lower yourself down onto your cock, sinking down as you both had in unison as you felt yourselves fill. Your walls tightened around it as you began to move slowly over it, up and down to, smooth and deep, taking all the time to feel it deep inside you.

"Too wet and tight, baby" he moaned as he went all the way inside you.

He grunted holding his breath as you moved slowly and consistently. This was heaven itself, the way you guys fit together perfectly. How his cock slid inside you rhythmically, how his fingers held your body and his eyes kept seeing you.

Your hands cradling his cheeks as your gazes were connected as if you needed each other, talked to each other, loved each other. It was so intimate and exciting. Your hips kept moving with the help of his hands that had dug into your skin, that there would probably be marks tomorrow but you didn't care. It was proof of his love.

You didn't want to stop seeing his black eyes, shining in front of yours but you needed to kiss him. Your lips take his and it's a soft, romantic touch. His hands continue to control your movements on his cock, as you move over him. Up and down, side to side, in circles and in reverse.

The atmosphere feels tense, sticky, hot. His sweaty body, his stifling moans, the dirty noise of his sex, it was perfect.

It was wild but still had the intense, delicate touch of their love, enjoying every drop of pleasure that coursed through their bodies. Their mouths devoured each other as his hands circled your breasts and played with your hard, needy nipples. Your hands buried in her back, trying to hold you as your movements became erratic, digging your nails deep into her skin.

"Yes, shit!" you screamed as the world faded away between you.

You wanted to scream, to get it all out of your chest, to tell him how much you loved him. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, just you and him. Clawing at his back, screaming his name desperately, his body beneath yours as his teeth dug into your shoulders and his fingers left red trails on your skin. You wanted to love Jude, private or public it didn't matter to you but he hated that word.

Friends. You weren't friends, he'd said so himself. Friends didn't look at each other that way. The way you looked at Jude, the way Jude looked at you. With love. With hope, with illusion, with fascination. As if you depended on each other, as if your hearts were tied together, as if he was your air to breathe, as if you were his reason for existing.

Everything about Jude enchanted you. You loved him. Like you had never loved anyone, like you had never wanted anyone. Because you were born to be together, you found each other, you met, you knew each other, you fell in love, you felt each other, you belonged.

"Look at me, baby" he whispered in your ear as you kept moving sensually over his body.

You were ecstatic in a dimension completely out of the ranges, feeling how your whole body joined Jude's, how your hearts beat in tandem, how your breaths got lost in each other's skins.

You could barely open your eyes, you could barely move but you couldn't stop. It was overwhelming, the desperation to feel more united than before, in body and soul, in being and consciousness.

"You are my whole life" he whispered in his perfect accent that melted you.

Your eyes smiled as your mouth couldn't shut up and your hips couldn't stop moving, hard and fast, his cock buried deep in your core, hitting exactly the right spot.

"I love you, princess" he whispered again as his hands held your face in front of yours.

"I love you, Jude" you said before receiving the surges of pleasure through your system.

And you exploded. He exploded. It was glorious. The way you both climaxed together as you told each other you loved each other, the look on his face as he spilled inside you, as you received him, tight and hot. How your hearts toasted from your breasts and wallowed in ecstasy.

The desperate gasps and your bodies trembling as you fell surrendered on his shoulder and Jude gently embraced you. Your skins glistening with sweat and your breaths heaving for air.

You never said that word to you before. Maybe you were too excited and had imagined those words but you are sure you had said them. It had come out loud and clear from your mouth. More than from your mouth, they came from deep inside you. You loved him and you didn't want to hide it anymore.

"Shall we make it official?" he asks as your bodies fall limp on the bed.

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you to his chest. The words get stuck in your mouth, is he really serious?

"You don't have to feel pressured, I was just overreacting..." you try to say kindly, feeling guilty about earlier.

"No, I want to" he says firmly. "I want them to know that you're mine, that we're together" he insists and your chest vibrates.

You bite your lip as you hide a gasp.

"Come on, it's just you and me" he begs again with his sparkling eyes and that enchanting smile. "Do you really want to do this?"

A smile tugs at your lips and you nod as you feel your belly roar. Butterflies begin to flutter and make you sigh at his gaze.

You move closer to him and when your lips are almost brushing against his, you smile.

"Of course I do, Jude" you reply before crashing your lips against yours again.

[lilislegacy]

Okay, I’m so gonna get hate for this. And it will probably get about 4 notes. This is, by far, the most opinionated thing I have ever posted on here. If you can’t tolerate criticism towards Rick Riordan, the books, or the TV show, please keep scrolling. My goal is NOT to change your mind or start arguments.

I also want to preface this by saying that I love and respect Rick Riordan (even if I disagree with him on things and don’t like some of his choices) and fully acknowledge that he has the right to do whatever the hell he pleases with his own series. I also want to say that I love Annabeth Chase (both the book and tv show version) with my entire being and you will never find me being an Annabeth hater. She’s my girl.

We good? Okay cool. So here’s the thing: I’ve seen a lot of people on here saying things like “If you didn’t like the books, you just don’t know how to have fun,” and “The new book haters are just mad that they aren’t the target audience anymore,” and (my personal favorite) “Nothing in the books has changed, only the readers have.”

And while I see your points, and I respect you, allow me to show you something. Because of the 10 picture limit, I am only going to focus on one specific change: Annabeth’s view of Percy.

WOTTG: Annabeth is surprised to be comforted by Percy

Past Books: Percy is constantly comforting Annabeth

WOTTG: Annabeth is shocked when Percy is smart

Past Books: Annabeth often points out that Percy is intelligent

WOTTG: Annabeth thinks Percy can’t do anything on his own, and Rick communicates that Annabeth is always saving his ass

Past Books: Percy is ALWAYS watching her back, and saving her ass just as much (and Annabeth admits that)

I could put a hundred quotes in here. I could go on and on and on. But I can’t, and I won’t.

My problem with this new book is NOT that it is more goofy than serious. My problem is NOT that little things have changed. My problem is NOT that it’s just for fun. My problem is NOT that it’s much more childish. (And by the way, I’ve read PJO and HOO as an adult, so it’s not like I was a child when I read everything else and am now an adult reading the new ones.) I really did like and enjoy many parts of this book.

My problem is that the characters (especially Annabeth) have flat out changed—in bad ways—and we have no choice but to accept it as canon. My problem is that Rick, while trying to merge his books with his new TV show project, is changing the entire personalities and past behaviors/ tendencies of the characters.

I loved Chalice of the Gods. You know why? It was fun, goofy, and showed the characters that we know and love being happy and adorable. I strongly dislike Wrath of the Triple Godess because the characters—no matter how adorable and happy they might be—are no longer the ones we know and love.

My problem is that Rick Riordan fully admitted that he no longer considers the old book characters when he writes the new books. He is now purposefully incorporating his own personal mixture of the book characters and tv characters and writing those versions instead. Because of his desire to change and transform the series, I doubt he’s even read the original PJO or HOO books in years, which is why everything is so inconsistent. The old book characters—the ones who made the series what it was—are gone. And that is not my opinion. Rick fully admits that he doesn’t imagine them when he writes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the tv show actors. I adore Walker and Leah and Aryan with my whole heart, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But the fact is: they will never be exactly like the book characters. It’s impossible for actors to become the words on a page. They’re their own unique version! And likewise, you cannot turn actors into print. It doesn’t work! And why would you try? The books versions were perfect as they were. And the disney kids need to make the characters their own. The two versions can exist side by side, equally as wonderful, and still be gloriously different. We should celebrate the uniqueness of both. But instead, Rick is attempting to merge them into one. And in my opinion, it’s just hurting them both. And I’m gonna get real brave by saying this, but do you want my honest prediction? If he keeps doing what he’s doing now, the TV show is going to get cancelled and the books are going to turn into a joke. I so, so badly hope that this doesn’t happen! I have loved Rick and PJO for many, many years. I badly want both to thrive. But what is going on right now… it is not working, no matter how much we all want it to. And speaking as someone who knows people in the TV/Film industry, I am sadly not the only one who thinks the show is gonna flop. Which is devastating, because Rick Riordan deserves a redemption on the big screen, and the incredible actors deserve to bring this series to life in a new way.

I am not trying to force my opinions onto anybody. You are welcome to disagree with me and move on. I am not saying that I’m right and you’re wrong. If you disagree, that’s okay. If you agree but you don’t have a problem with it, that’s okay. In fact if other people have literally no issues, that makes me somewhat happy. And if you loved the book, I’m honestly so stoked for you. Feel free to just keep on scrolling, my friend.

But me? I’m sad. I’m really, really freaking sad. And I’m a little angry too, even if I don’t have a right to be. I can’t help it because I’m only human. But this is how I—and a lot of other people—feel. And you know what? That’s okay too. Because the fact of the matter is:

Annabeth isn’t the same Annabeth anymore. And Percy isn’t the same Percy anymore. And it’s not because they went through trauma, or because time has passed. It’s because Rick Riordan doesn’t have any interest in writing those versions of them anymore. And I think the comparisons between the old and the new show that fact pretty clearly.

[astrxq]

cregan stark x wife!reader — prompt list 1.19 from my autumn party!

words: 3.1k

notes: ahhh first time writing "smut"… not sure how i did but let me know! requested

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Winterfell's lord's chambers, casting a warm glow on the sleeping forms nestled beneath the furs. For once, the ever-vigilant Cregan Stark slumbered peacefully, his usually tense features relaxed in repose. You stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open to take in the rare sight of your husband still abed at this hour.

A smile tugged at your lips as you remembered his return the previous evening. Cregan had been gone for nearly a fortnight, leading a hunting party deep into the Wolfswood. When he'd finally ridden through Winterfell's gates, you'd barely contained your relief and joy at seeing him safe and whole. Now, as you gazed upon his sleeping face, the worry that had gnawed at you during his absence melted away.

Cregan's arm was draped heavily across your waist, holding you close even in sleep. You shifted slightly, pressing yourself more firmly against his broad chest, relishing the warmth of his body after so many cold nights alone. As if sensing your movement, Cregan's grip tightened reflexively, drawing you even nearer.

You couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between this tender moment and the stern, unyielding man the rest of the world saw. The Lord of Winterfell, the Wolf of the North – titles that spoke of duty and strength, but revealed nothing of the gentle heart that beat beneath that gruff exterior. A heart you'd slowly come to know over the course of your marriage.

It hadn't been an easy path. When you'd first arrived at Winterfell as Cregan's bride, you'd found him distant and taciturn. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to leave little room for warmth or affection. But you were no shrinking violet, and you'd been determined to forge a true partnership with your new husband.

Memories of those early days flitted through your mind as you nestled against Cregan. The awkward silences at meals, the stilted conversations as you tried to find common ground. But there had been moments of connection too – a shared laugh over some courtly mishap, the quiet pride in his eyes when you'd handled a delicate diplomatic situation with grace.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the ice had begun to thaw between you. You'd discovered Cregan's dry wit, hidden beneath layers of Northern stoicism. He'd come to appreciate your quick mind and steady presence at his side. Trust had grown, tentative at first, then stronger with each passing moon.

And now, after moons of patience and perseverance, you found yourself here – wrapped in the arms of a man who had become more than just your lord husband. Cregan Stark had become your partner, your confidant, and yes, your love.

You nuzzled your face against his chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of pine and leather clung to him still, mingled with something uniquely Cregan that never failed to make your heart quicken. Your movement must have finally roused him, for you felt his chest rumble with a low groan as he began to stir.

"Good morrow, my lord," you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice. "The sun is high in the sky. Have the fearsome Lord of Winterfell's habits grown lax in his old age?"

Cregan's eyes cracked open, still heavy with sleep. He regarded you for a long moment before a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Watch who you're calling old, wife," he grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. His hand, calloused from years of wielding sword and bow, came up to cup your cheek. "The hunt was long, and the furs are warm. Can you blame a man for savoring a moment's peace?"

You leaned into his touch, your own hand coming to rest over his. "Never, my love. You've more than earned your rest." Your tone grew more serious as you added, "I've missed you, Cregan. These past days have been... long."

Something softened in Cregan's gaze at your words. He knew well the toll his absences took on you, just as you understood the duties that often called him away. It was a delicate balance you both strove to maintain – the needs of the North weighed against the needs of your own hearts.

"As have I, my dear," Cregan admitted, his voice rough with more than just sleep. "Each night in that cursed forest, I found myself longing for the warmth of our bed... and the even sweeter warmth of your embrace."

Such open declarations of feeling were still rare from your taciturn husband, and you treasured each one. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that spoke volumes of your own longing.

Cregan responded immediately, one hand tangling in your hair as the other pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened, months of practice allowing you to fit together perfectly. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, you couldn't help but grin.

"I fear I've grown quite spoiled, my lord," you said, affecting a dramatic tone. "A mere fortnight without you, and I've become positively needy. Whatever shall we do about this dreadful affliction?"

A low chuckle rumbled through Cregan's chest. "Is that so?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "And what would my lady suggest as a cure for this... neediness?"

You pretended to consider the question, tapping your chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Well, I suppose there are ways for a husband to please his wife."

"Is that an order from my lady wife?" Cregan's voice had dropped to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

"It is," you declared imperiously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the breathless quality of your own voice. "Your lord wife demands attentio–"

Your words were cut off as Cregan's lips claimed yours once more. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, filled with all the longing of your time apart. His hands roamed your body, relearning curves and planes he knew as well as his own. You melted into his touch, your own fingers tracing the strong lines of his back and shoulders.

When you parted again, both panting slightly, you saw a familiar heat kindling in Cregan's grey eyes. "I believe," he growled, "that I have been remiss in my husbandly duties. Allow me to make amends, my lady."

Cregan's lips moved to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch they could reach, his hand sneaking past the soft material of your sleep gown to explore the warmth of your skin beneath. A gasp escaped your lips as his mouth found the sensitive curve just beneath your ear, the sensation sending delightful shivers coursing through your body. You tilted your head back, allowing him more access, every gentle caress igniting a longing that had been stifled for far too long.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. "The day awaits us. We have responsibilities–"

His kisses trailed lower, warm and demanding, brushing against the soft fabric of your gown. "Let the day wait," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "This is our moment. I’ve missed you, and I intend to make every second count."

You couldn't suppress the way your heart raced, his touch igniting a fire within you that only he could kindle. His fingers traced shaped on your waist as he hungrily licked a pack down to your chest. 

He groaned once he made contact with the clothing that separated him from your breasts, as if annoyed by it, he moved his hands to move the straps of the gown down, revealing what he'd been waiting for for so long. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, heightening your awareness of his every touch.

“By the gods,” he breathed, his voice laced with reverence as he gazed at you. The look in his eyes made your cheeks flush, a mix of shyness and desire. It was a rare thing to see Cregan Stark so openly captivated, and the sight fueled a boldness within you.

“Do you like what you see, my lord?” you teased, your voice low and playful, though the way your heart raced betrayed the calm you tried to project.

Cregan’s gaze darkened with a mix of hunger and admiration. “More than you can imagine,” he replied, his fingers gliding over your skin, exploring every curve with a deliberate slowness that made you ache for more.

“Cregan…” The name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and you could see the way it affected him – his breath catching, his hands freezing in place. It was a heady power to know that you had such an effect on him.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your collarbone, sending a delightful shiver racing down your spine. “Every moment without you has been torture,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t return to you empty-handed… that I’d come back bearing gifts worthy of my lady wife.”

You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his intense gaze. “And what gift do you bring me, my lord?” You smiled, a playful glint sparking in your eyes, hoping to tease him further.

“Let me show you,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. 

His hands moved the cloth down your body, seeing his hungry eyes as if he was admiring every detail. Finally, the gown left your body, his hands tightening on your hips. He pulled, then, making you move down the bed so you were laid completely.

Eyes locking with yours, he grazed his body back, until his chin hit your thigh, he laid a soft kiss there, then another and another, each one trailing higher, awakening every nerve beneath his lips. 

You gasped, a tremor running through you at the unexpected sensation. Cregan’s warm breath danced across your skin, teasing and tantalizing, and you felt as if he was drawing out all the longing that had been buried deep within you during his absence.

“Every part of you deserves to be worshiped,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he continued his slow ascent. Your body responded instinctively, arching toward him, seeking more of his touch, more of the heat radiating from him.

His hands explored the delicate curves of your thighs, fingers brushing against the soft skin, sending delightful shivers through your body. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed, his gaze never wavering from yours, filled with a mix of admiration and hunger that made your heart race faster.

His hair had gone messy, from the sleeping and the kissing. You moved your hand to gently move it out of his face as he kissed your thighs, hands still holding onto your hips. At the feeling of your hand in his hair, he hitched up your knee, your leg now resting on his shoulder.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, the intimacy of the moment electrifying. Cregan looked up at you from his place between your thighs, his eyes alight with mischief and desire, as if he relished every second spent worshiping you. The way he gazed at you made your heart flutter, igniting a yearning that had been building like a wildfire in your chest.

“Cregan…” you breathed, the sound barely above a whisper, an invitation and a plea all at once.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he pressed his lips to the soft skin of your thigh, his warm breath sending tingling sensations coursing through you. You gripped the furs beneath you, fighting the urge to arch your back as he continued his tantalizing path, leaving a trail of kisses that made you dizzy with anticipation.

The world outside the chamber faded away, the responsibilities and duties of Winterfell slipping from your mind as you surrendered to the moment. Cregan’s hands were firm and confident, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your hips as he inched closer to your center, teasing you with his slow, deliberate movements.

“Do you know how long I dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, the warmth of his breath against your skin causing you to shiver in response. “Each night in the forest, all I could think about was coming back to you.”

You could feel your pulse quicken at his words, the raw honesty behind them igniting a fire deep within you. “I wished for you every day, husband,” you confessed, your voice trembling with longing. “Every moment apart felt like an eternity.”

You tightened your hold on his hair when he reached your heat, the soft kiss placed on you made you shiver in pleasure, a sigh leaving your lips. Then, a slow lick of a stripe, he hummed as he tasted you.

The sensation rippled through you, sending a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Cregan's mouth was warm and inviting, and as he savored your essence, you felt an exquisite blend of vulnerability and power in this intimate act. Every flick of his tongue ignited your senses, drawing forth soft gasps and shudders from your lips that filled the otherwise quiet chamber. You couldn't help but wonder how one man could wield such mastery over your body, and the thought alone sent a thrill of delight coursing through you.

“Cregan,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, the name tasting sweet on your tongue as you surrendered to the blissful sensations he was drawing from you. He paused for a brief moment, looking up at you, those grey eyes smoldering with heat and intent, and you could see the raw need etched in the lines of his face.

“Let me hear you,” he urged, his voice low and gravelly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “Please.”

You nodded, emboldened by the warmth in his gaze, as his mouth resumed its heavenly ministrations. He teased you with lingering kisses, his warm breath contrasting deliciously against the coolness of the room, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the warmth of the furs beneath you, the heady scent of pine, leather, and Cregan’s unique musk swirling around you. Every soft brush of his lips and each firm flick of his tongue was perfectly attuned to your body, as if he had learned your every secret through those long nights apart. He knew how to coax the sensations from you, his skilled movements igniting a fire that blazed brighter with every passing second.

“Please, don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice filled with urgency as you felt the building pressure within you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel at any moment. “I–”

He took your words as a challenge, redoubling his efforts. Instinctively, his hand moved up to hold yours, fingers linked together as he used the other hand to pull you closer to his mouth. Cregan’s lips moved with fervor, the sounds of your pleasure spilling from your lips mixing with the soft sighs of his own desire. He consumed you, wholly and completely, until all you could focus on was the heat building between your legs and the way his hands gripped you possessively.

“More, Cregan,” you whimpered, your body arching instinctively toward him, seeking more of the ecstasy he was so expertly delivering. It was as if he was the sun, and you were drawn into his orbit, helplessly caught in the warmth of his desire.

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. He shifted his focus, his movements becoming more deliberate and focused as he traced delicate circles, pushing you higher and higher toward the precipice of bliss.

With each tantalizing stroke, you could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. Your fingers clenched in his hair, urging him on, and Cregan obliged with a growl of delight that sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“I need you,” you breathed, the words escaping before you could think better of them. You knew it was true; your body craved him, and the aching longing that had been stifled during his absence ignited into an all-consuming desire.

He lifted his head momentarily, the flush on his cheeks matching yours as he gazed at you, an intensity burning in his eyes. “You have me,” he promised, his voice low and thick with desire. “You will always have me.” And then he returned to his feast, working you higher, his focus unwavering.

With each teasing caress and each gentle suckle, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, the world outside fading further as you surrendered completely to the sensations he was igniting within you. The exquisite pressure tightened and tightened until it finally burst, sending you spiraling over the edge into a world of blinding pleasure.

You cried out his name, the sound reverberating in the chamber as wave after wave of bliss washed over you. It was a moment of pure euphoria, your body trembling as you rode the heights of pleasure, feeling as if you could float away on the sheer intensity of it all.

Cregan held you close, his hands steady against your hips as he guided you through the peaks and valleys of your climax, whispering sweet nothings that only deepened your connection. He worshiped you even in the throes of your release, kissing away your cries as he drew you back down gently, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

As the tremors of pleasure subsided, you gazed down at him, breathless and glowing, the room still echoing with the remnants of your bliss. Cregan's face radiated a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness, his lips curled into a smirk that made your heart flutter.

Afterwards, catching your breaths, you lay tangled together, a sheen of sweat cooling on your skin as you basked in the afterglow.

"I should go hunting more often," Cregan mused, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder, "if this is the welcome I can expect upon my return."

You swatted his chest playfully. "Don't you dare," you warned. "Or I shall be forced to accompany you on every expedition, propriety be damned."

Cregan's laugh was full and rich, a sound that never failed to warm your heart. "Now there's a terrifying thought. The great lords of the North, cowering before the fierce Lady Stark as she stalks through the Wolfswood."

You propped yourself up on one elbow, fixing him with a mock glare. "And why shouldn't they cower? I've tamed the fiercest wolf of all, have I not?"

Something shifted in Cregan's expression then, the mirth fading into something deeper, more intense. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. "Aye," he said softly. "That you have, my love. That you have."

You settled back against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. The rest of the world could wait, you decided. For now, this moment was yours alone – you and Cregan, wrapped in the cocoon of your shared love, savoring a peace that had been long in the making.